Meet Me in the Courtyard
by MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: Belle hosts a monthly movie night in Storybrooke, always leaving the seat next to her empty. Gold loathes movies, yet movie night at the library is the one community event even he can't seem to resist.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A little pile of movie night fluff.

Gold glared out the window of his shop, catching Gretel Snyder's eye before she covered his new window display with one of those stupid movie night posters. Belle French was paying neighborhood children to hang those blasted flyers—again. Young Gretel's green eyes were as large as dinner plates as he scowled at her in a fierce yet silent showdown. She blinked, and he smirked in satisfaction. Then, with a triumphant grin, she slapped the paper against the glass and fled.

He hobbled to the door and snatched the paper, grinding it beneath his heel with a satisfactory crunch. "Meet Me in the Courtyard indeed," he muttered aloud to the empty shop. He picked at a stray bit of tape with his fingertips. Gold loathed movies, and he wouldn't take part in advertising this foolish community event, no matter how gorgeous and engaging its organizer was.

Movies reminded him of his ex-wife, Milah. Milah, who went to the theatre around the corner twice a week from their Boston apartment, a harmless habit which later evolved into bopping the concessions manager, who also happened to be a wannabe actor. Killian Jones, it seemed, had larger Jujubes than he did.

Not like it mattered. With his bum leg and too-sharp nose, he was hardly movie star material. He'd grown frustrated trying to fulfill Milah's ideal of a fantasy hero and when she wanted out of their loveless marriage, it had been a relief to let her go.

Besides, movies were silly, contrived stories with cardboard characters and unrealistic happy endings. Nothing of substance or real life in them. Watching only led to disappointment when reality didn't measure up to the ideal.

Movies. Gold shuddered. Even the smell of popcorn made him nauseated.

But the truth was, he was a hypocrite. He couldn't resist strolling by the library when Storybrooke hosted its monthly movie night. "Meet Me in the Courtyard" was Miss French's answer to the town's lack of a theatre. On the first Saturday of each month, citizens of all walks and ages gathered to watch a film and scarf gallons of "free" popcorn and oversized boxes of Raisinettes. Gold snorted. Nothing was free. Hard-earned tax dollars payed for those movie nights, but the unwitting victims seemed not to care. They were all-too-willing to trade precious time and money for ninety minutes of mindless pleasure.

Idiots.

Gold never attended these ridiculous affairs—at least, not technically. Instead he would lean on his cane behind a well-placed poplar tree, dividing his time between gawking at Miss French and contemplating the always-empty front aisle seat beside her. In all the months he'd been spying on her from the shadows, no one ever sat there. Person after person gave her a fond smile, patted her shoulder, and sidled by in search of another chair.

Puzzled, he shook his head. Belle was a pleasant, intelligent young woman with a bright, sweet voice, who always paid the rent on time. Between her visits to his shop and his trips to the library, he'd been in her presence often enough to know she didn't suffer from disgusting breath or bad body odor. No, she smelled of crushed rose petals and spring rain. Certainly she should have company at her own gathering. What was the matter with these so-called friends of hers?

An hour later, as dusk settled over Storybrooke, he found himself lurking behind a hedge as the petite town librarian struggled to push the snack cart through the damp grass in five-inch heels.

As usual, Belle was doing all the work alone. Why wasn't anyone helping her set up?

He may be a right bastard, but he was also a gentleman, and he couldn't in good conscious stand by and watch her muscle equipment into place. Gold flexed his fingers and stepped forward. He rested his cane against the south wall of the library, which served as the movie screen, and finished lining up the chairs in neat rows.

"Thank you, Mr. Gold. You're always so kind." Belle squeezed his forearm and the sunny smile she offered made his stomach flip-flop.

He brushed clammy hands on his suit pants and managed a stiff nod in reply. She continued to stand before him, her eyebrows raised in expectation. Mystified, Gold stared at her, then took a look around the courtyard in silent inventory; the snacks were out, the projector in place, and he'd done the chairs. What else could she want? He racked his brain for safe conversation topics, but he had nothing of value to say to this stunning creature.

"So, you, ah, like movies Miss French?" he asked around a cotton-filled mouth. _Scintillating, Gold._

She nodded, her auburn curls bouncing with enthusiasm, then chirped, "the only thing better than a good movie is a good book."

"Ah," he said, trying not to roll his eyes. She was almost hopping up and down in excitement. In his mind, books were a great deal more superior than movies, but best not to rip off her rose-colored glasses.

"Will you be at the movie tonight?" she asked. "We're showing _The Hunchback of Notre Dame._ Such an underrated classic…"

He winced. Was she kidding? Why would he want to bear witness to the misery of a hunched over, lonesome orphan who cloaked himself in darkness, staying hidden from polite society? Poor Quasimodo was even in love with an unreachable woman.

The theme was far too familiar, and further proof he and Belle French may both reside in the same small town, but their lives were worlds apart.

"Not bloody likely," he bit out, then picked up his cane and beat a hasty retreat back to his shop.

xoxo

"Leaving the aisle seat empty again, Belles?" Ruby shook her head, then slid into her chair next to her boyfriend, Archie, right as the movie began. "He won't come. He never comes. What makes you think tonight will be any different?"

"He might," Belle insisted, lifting her chin. "There's always hope."

"Whatever." Ruby rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh.

The music swelled and the opening credits began, and Ruby turned her face toward the screen. Belle worried her lower lip as she looked down the row of chairs, hugging her popcorn for one to her chest.

Five minutes into the movie, Belle glanced at her patrons' faces, reflecting the glow of the screen. She was pleased to see so many townspeople enjoying the movie, but their joy left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. Mary Margaret's head was nestled against her fiancé, David's, shoulder; Ariel and Jefferson were holding hands; Mulan was feeding gummy bears to Merida; and Ruby had slung one long leg across Archie's lap.

It wasn't the movie making them happy; it was having someone to share it with.

All her friends were paired off; each of them had someone special to share movie night with—everyone except her. Afterward they would all go to Granny's for coffee and pie and chat about the movie, and once more she would be the third wheel, (or in this case, the ninth), squeezing into the corner of the booth, surrounded on all sides by loving couples. She was better off going home to a box of half-stale brown sugar Pop Tarts and re-reading _Pride and Prejudice._

Belle sent a longing look toward the street, hoping Mr. Gold would reappear. She'd been delighted earlier this afternoon when he offered to help prepare the courtyard for the movie. The salty sea breeze had carried his spicy, masculine scent toward her, making her nostrils flare with pleasure. He smelled better than buttered popcorn.

It figured the one man she was interested in eschewed community gatherings. Belle's stomach dropped. Maybe she was the problem; when she dared to suggest he might break with tradition and attend tonight's festivities, he'd all but sprinted down the street to get away. Perhaps it was her choice of movie. Was he not a fan of Disney films?

She snapped her eyes back to the screen and tried to focus, but her thoughts returned again and again to Mr. Gold. Moments later she was scanning the streets once more, praying for a glimpse of him.

"Belle." Ruby nudged her with a sharp elbow. "What's with you? You've missed the entire first hour of the movie."

"Nothing," Belle whispered, massaging her sore neck between thumb and forefinger. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, right." Ruby snorted, sending several kernels of popcorn flying. "You're going to need a neck brace if you keep whipping your head around looking for Mr. Wonderful. Unless you want an excuse to visit Whale? I mean, he is pretty hot…"

"Ruby!" Belle shot a pointed look at Archie whose attention was thankfully on the movie.

"What? I meant for you, not me. For some reason, though, you'd rather have Gold." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't get it."

"You don't have to get it," Belle hissed.

"Shhh!" Leroy Kline pummeled Belle's shoulder with a box of Junior Mints, then leaned forward to poke his head between her and Ruby. "Take it somewhere else, sister. I'm tryin' to watch the movie here!"

"Sorry," Belle said, slumping in her seat before chancing another glance behind her.

xoxo

From the shadows on the street, Gold cringed. She was doing it again…turning around to look at him. No doubt wondering what he was doing there. Hell, he wanted to know himself. He should have snagged a chair in the back row or walked on when he first caught her watching him. Now it was too late. Now Belle—and everyone else in town—knew he was a pathetic stalker.

Miss French approached, and he froze like a deer staring down the barrel of a shotgun. Feeble attempts to look busy were in vain when he was standing under a street lamp, gaping at the makeshift movie screen. His hands started to sweat, then his cane slipped out of his grip and clattered on the sidewalk.

Belle bent down to retrieve it, and handed it over with a soft smile. "Are you all right, Mr. Gold?"

"I'm on my way. Don't bother." He turned around with a huff and stepped back into the shadows.

"Wait! Please!"

He spun on his heel and crossed his arms. "You think I don't notice, is that it? The way you're looking at me?"

"What? Oh." Belle pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. "Am I...I didn't realize I was so obvious."

So he'd embarrassed her? _Good._

"Quite, Miss French." He stabbed the sidewalk with his cane for emphasis.

"Please call me Belle," she said, a bit too sharply.

He raised an eyebrow. "As you wish, _Belle."_

He spat out her name like it tasted bad, and Belle shook her head. He was misinterpreting every move she made.

"Need I remind you I don't need your permission to walk this street during your preposterous movie event or at any other time?" He gave an imperious wave to hide his trembling fingers. "I own this block," he barked. "I own this whole town."

"I know." Belle shivered, then hugged herself. "I keep turning around because…"

He cut her off, unwilling to listen to excuses.

"I thought you were different, Miss French. But I suppose that's only one-on-one, eh?" Furious and hurt, he considered her visits to his shop when she quizzed him about the antiques on display and chatted about old books, or her winsome smile as she'd accepted his help earlier this evening. All a ruse to make him look like a fool. "In public—where it counts—you're just like the rest of them."

Belle's teary eyes shimmered in the moonlight. "You don't understand anything!"

She slapped him on the arm, the blow carrying surprising bite through three layers of fabric. He took a half-step back in surprise.

"And you didn't let me finish!" Her hands were on her hips now, her eyes sparking in the dark. "So you noticed me watching you, but you never noticed I leave the seat beside me vacant? While all my friends pair off with their sweethearts to watch the movie, I turn around to look at you because…because…"

"Why?" he asked in a half whisper, and oh, God, all at once he knew the answer. He was terrified to be right, but even more terrified to be wrong. He leaned closer, needing to hear her say the words.

"Because I'm an idiot!" she snapped. "I keep hoping you'll stop being such a pompous ass and come sit with me!"

 _Well. That certainly put him in his place._ Several moviegoers turned around to see what the commotion was, and he waved at the wall. "Show's over there, folks!"

Two dozen heads swiveled back toward the movie, and he returned his attention to Belle.

"Pompous ass, am I?" he asked, unable to stop the smile cracking his face.

Her eyes widened and she twisted her fingers in her skirt. "Not usually, but…yes! At the moment, you're being a first-class jerk."

"Forgive me, Miss French, please. I didn't realize…" He grimaced, raising his hands then dropping them in defeat. He thought she'd been embarrassed by his presence. "You'd be right to snub me. I'm the town pariah."

"Not to me." She took a step closer. "You're handsome and witty and sweet, and I wouldn't hurt you for the world. I've had a terrible crush on you for ages. For months I've racked my brain, trying to come up with a movie even you couldn't resist. Anything to get you to meet me in the courtyard." She laughed weakly at her little pun.

"I'm not much for movies," he admitted.

"You don't say." She smothered a giggle. "Hard to believe the same man who feeds stray dogs and cats in the alley outside frightens away children who dare to hang flyers outside his shop window."

Gold bowed his head. For someone who valued privacy and solitude, he was an open book to this beautiful, extraordinary woman. A flush of embarrassment radiated from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

"Movies don't quite offer the same escape for me as they do for others." He kept his voice soft, attempting to explain without saying too much. He darted his eyes toward the audience and licked his parched lips.

Belle nodded, and linked her arm through his, pulling him closer until they stood flush against one another. "We could leave," she suggested. "Late dinner at Granny's?"

Hesitant, Gold lifted his gaze to the screen, watching the scene when Quasimodo rescues Esmeralda in the square unfold. He turned to Belle. "Perhaps we should stay."

Her mouth dropped open. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He gulped. He wasn't sure at all, but Belle had gone out of her way to reserve him a chair and make him welcome. She'd shown him kindness, not pity, and he wanted to do something to please her in return.

"Maybe we can find a way to make movies a happy experience for us both?" She held out her hand, offering more than he thought possible with the small gesture.

"I would like that," he said, lifting her hand to his mouth to kiss her chocolate-scented fingers.

He followed her into the soft crush of grass, winding through the cluster of chairs, and took his seat.

###


	2. Chapter 2

_Summary: The courtyard "movie of the month" is Back to the Future, and Ruby decides Gold is a mad scientist like Doc Brown._ _Aka the chapter where all of Belle's friends are buttheads but Gold is an adorable jerk._ _  
Notes: Written for the June A-Monthly-Rumbelling: Bad day, drink, cuddling_

"He's weird," Ruby announced, patting Belle's knee under the table.

Belle tore her gaze away from the front door of Granny's and made a face at her best friend. "'Weird' is a weak word with a poor connotation," she said in the tone she reserved for when the schoolchildren visited the library. "Gold is whimsical. Private."

"He's a nutter." Ruby dragged a handful of fries through a combination of mayonnaise, ketchup, and hot sauce and crammed them in her mouth, then chased the grease cocktail with a long pull of her chocolate milkshake.

"Now you're just being mean." She poked Ruby in the shoulder, satisfied when she grunted in pain.

It was Saturday night following the monthly movie in the library courtyard, and Gold had made his excuses two-thirds of the way through a showing of _Back to the Future_ , promising to meet up with her at Granny's later.

"You call it mean, I call it observant," Ruby countered. "He's always tinkering with stuff in his store. This afternoon I saw him playing with some weird thing with dials and wires."

"Sounds like an amp meter," Belle guessed. "He would need one to check the electrical safety of antiques."

"Naturally nerd girl would know what nerd boy was up to." Ruby smirked. "Anyhoo, it looked suspicious, so I went around to the side of the building and peeked in the workroom to see what else he had cooking. Huge table cloaked with a thick white sheet."

Belle splayed a hand over her heart and opened her mouth, feigning shock. "He's in the restoration business."

Ruby shook her head. "That's just his cover. I'd betcha anything he's building a time machine."

"Out of a Cadillac?" Belle drizzled honey into her mug of Earl Grey and grinned at the mental image of Gold putting pedal-to-the-metal in the luxe sedan. "And people accuse _me_ of having an overactive imagination."

Ruby arched a raven eyebrow, causing Belle to roll her eyes.

"For the last time, Gold is not dabbling in time travel."

"No, you're right. He's Gold. He'd never do anything so altruistic." Ruby shoved another fistful of fries in her mouth. "He's building a bomb," she said with her mouth full.

"You're ridiculous." Belle sipped her tea.

"Then why did he leave in the middle of the movie?"

Belle frowned into her drink, wrapping her fingers around the warm mug for comfort. She didn't have the answer, but she wasn't about to admit it. "He had to go."

"On a Saturday night in the middle of an eighties classic?" Ruby crossed her arms. "More like he didn't want to hang out here with us. Not enough intellectual stimulation for such a genius." The sarcasm dripped from her voice like the ketchup from her burger.

"Says the woman who's dating the resident psychiatrist." Belle sighed. Ruby was one of her best friends, but sometimes it seemed like their relationship was less of a friendship and more of a rivalry.

Ruby batted her eyelashes at Archie. "That big brain is inside a hot bod."

"Maybe he left because of all the nasty looks you were sending his way!" Belle accused. Every time Emmett "Doc" Brown had appeared onscreen, Ruby looked between the kind but wild-eyed scientist and Gold, sending Belle meaningful glances that distracted her throughout the film. Gold had kept his gaze steadily on the movie, but he had to have noticed. Ruby was less than subtle.

"Where's your wee sweetheart, Belle?" Merida asked, a teasing glint in her pale blue eyes. "Did he get distracted and forget how to get to the diner?"

"He is rather absentminded," Mary Margaret added, wrenching her gaze away from her fiancé David's lips long enough to join the conversation. "And he locks himself in his shop and acts annoyed whenever anyone comes in looking for something."

Ruby hooted. "You gotta admit, he has those same buggy brown eyes as the Doc…"

Belle clenched her hands tighter, until the tips of her nails left dents in her palms. "His eyes are _not_ buggy!" she cried, almost upsetting her untouched wedge of blueberry pie. Gold had soulful, amber eyes, so intense that she sometimes had to look away. And when he was grew passionate, they darkened into a silken onyx…

"They kinda are," Ruby insisted, snapping her out of her fantasy.

Furious, Belle jerked to her feet. She wished Ariel was there to come to her defense, but she was at home nursing a chest cold. Besides, if she had been at the table, Jefferson would have been there, too, and she would be deflecting more than one barb from that sardonic ass.

Honestly, sometimes her friends were insufferable.

"Ok, ok, we'll stop." Ruby grabbed her arm. "Sit down, Belles."

Belle slumped back in the booth in defeat. She and Gold weren't even dating, really. They had watched part of two movies together, drank a cup of tea at the same table, and shared one pizza lunch at Tony's Italian Eatery. He'd been pleasant, even _charming_ , but she sensed he was keeping his distance. Perhaps other people and public places made him nervous. And with the way present company treated him, was it any wonder?

"Belles, we're just trying to protect you from making a mistake." Ruby's eyes were a troubling mixture of guilt and amusement.

"Ruby, honey." Archie coughed and pushed his glasses up on his nose. He nudged the basket of fries toward her. "Food's getting cold."

Merida opened her mouth again, and Mulan shoveled an enormous bite of chocolate cream pie into her girlfriend's mouth with a smirk. "Chew slowly, sweetie."

David threw her a pitying frown before tucking his arm around Mary Margaret once more and steering her into a conversation about the merits of animal adoption.

Belle toyed with the fluted edge of her piecrust and took another sip of her lukewarm tea, doubts crowding out her enjoyment of their movie after-party. The voices of her friends buzzed around her head like flies—annoying but indiscernible. Maybe she'd been too forward with Gold and this was his way of politely disengaging—by blowing her off at Granny's with the entire town watching.

"Son of a bitch, here he comes." Ruby whistled low in her throat, and nodded toward the door.

Belle smiled, feeling a rush of relief. Gold was winding his way through the tables, an ancient flip phone pressed to his ear.

"Not so tech savvy, now, is he?" Belle couldn't resist sending Ruby a triumphant glare.

"On the line with his plutonium dealer," Ruby muttered. "No smart phones for him. Big Brother could track every move he makes. Gold's a dork, not a fool."

"Down, girl." Belle clenched her teeth and brushed pastry crumbs off her fingers.

xoxo

Everyone was staring at him. Everyone. Gold could feel the weight of their eyes as he maneuvered through the crowded restaurant. It seemed to take centuries to get to Belle, like he was sinking into quicksand instead of walking. He ended his fake conversation and pocketed the phone, nearly dropping it as he approached Belle's booth. She was smiling in his direction, but the telltale scrape of her teeth against her lower lip betrayed her nervousness. Was she happy to see him, or not?

The rest of her crew fell silent, gawking at him like he was sprouting a third eyeball. Gold leaned heavily on his cane, his ankle throbbing. It had been a bad day at the shop, his latest project causing backed up orders and customer complaints, Miss Lucas had stared at him through most of the movie like he was some sort of science experiment, and now he was standing at a full booth in a packed diner with two-hundred people watching his every move. He should have chucked it all and gone to bed with a bottle of Glenlivet.

"Gold, hey." Belle cut through the thick silence, scooting over on the banquette then patting the square of red vinyl beside her.

Miss Lucas and Miss Blanchard stifled giggles, while Miss DunBroch and Miss Fa stared into their drinks. Nolan nodded in greeting, but he wore the wary expression of a man outnumbered.

"Aren't you going to sit with us?" Belle asked.

 _To hell with this._ "I've suddenly recalled I need to be somewhere," he announced.

"Now?" Belle's voice was a high, mousy squeak.

"Yes, right away." He looked at his fingernails. "I just stopped by to tell you."

"Couldn't you have called?" Miss Lucas looked pointedly at the breast pocket in which he had placed his phone.

Ignoring her unsavory companions, he swept Belle a small, ironic bow. "Good evening."

Blood pounded in his ears, his cane eating up the tile as he hurried toward the exit. Behind him, he heard Belle say _"Thanks a lot,"_ but he wasn't sure if she was talking to him or to her friends. It didn't matter—his breath was coming sharp and fast and the walls were closing in; he couldn't get out of there fast enough. Outside, he took a deep lungful of air, but it was as thick as pea soup, not at all refreshing. Thunderclouds rumbled overhead as he hobbled down the sidewalk toward the shop, plump raindrops beginning to splatter against the sidewalk. Feeling miserable, he locked the door just as the heavens cracked open and the deluge began.

Not five minutes later, he heard a muffled pounding at the side door, and he threw it wide to admit a drenched Belle.

"Running away again?" She dripped onto the polished hardwood, a puddle forming between trembling legs. One of her sky-high heels had broken off and she stood uncertainly inside the doorway, holding the ruined navy pumps between her fingers.

"I do not _run_ away Miss French. I walk." He eyed her broken shoes distrustfully.

"How's that working out for you?" Like a wet puppy, she shook droplets of water off her head, her rose petal scent intensified by her damp skin and soaked curls.

"Not so great." He flinched. "Are you going to hit me like you did during _Hunchback_?"

Rainwater rolled down her face, her pained face mimicking his own. "I did not hit you."

"Aye, you did."

"It was a love tap."

"Ah." He blushed, his embarrassed gaze drifting away from her face and landing on her chest. Her cream silk blouse was soaked through, and the way the material molded to her lithe body like a second skin left little to his imagination. _And had he ever imagined._ The chattering of her teeth brought him out of his stupor. He swallowed and groped at the little cot for a blanket, wrapping it around her upper body. "You're shivering."

Belle shrugged, her eyes searching his for answers. "Tonight…was the movie so bad?"

" _Back to the Future?_ Not at all, actually," he admitted. "Much more entertaining than the first time I watched it with my ex-wife. Of course, she spent the entire film talking about banging Michael J. Fox." His self-deprecating laughter echoed off the floorboards.

"Then why?" She lifted her arm then let it fall in favor of hugging herself. It was a protective gesture, and it made him ashamed of stomping off like an angry toddler.

"Your friends are rather hostile." He crossed his own arms. "I could tell what was being said about me wasn't favorable. No surprise there."

Belle cocked her head. "Why do you always assume you're the one at fault?"

"Force of habit?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you walk through life expecting to be rejected, it's far easier to bear when the inevitable comes." Another brittle laugh. "It's all right, Belle. I don't expect you to understand."

"But I do." The corners of her mouth lifted in a sad smile. "Remember, I was the one who concocted a whole community event in the hopes we could spend some time together." She laid a cool hand against his cheek, still damp with rain, and he slid toward her like a magnet. Her allure was irresistible.

"You could have just asked," he said. "Although your friends…"

Her thumb against his face drifted down, massaging the pulse point in his jaw. "Who cares what they think? Ruby and the others were dreadful tonight—I'm not making excuses for them—but people are human. When they don't have an explanation, they make one up."

"Like I've threatened to bomb the town hall if my tenants don't get the rent in on time?" he asked.

Belle giggled. "No, I mean they don't know the real you. I bet they don't know you listen to show tunes while you restore antiques, eat your fortune cookie first when you go out for Chinese, and cuddle with a blanket and a glass of whiskey on the couch before bed."

He felt himself smile. "How did you know all that?"

"The last one was just a guess. But Ruby's not the only one who knows how to spy." A flush crept up her neck as she realized what she said. "Sorry, uh, that came out wrong. I don't mean I _watch_ you. I mean, I watch you but I don't like, look through your windows and…oh, crap."

He laughed softly at her bewildered expression. "It's all right, Belle. I'm flattered. My ex-wife, she…" He bit the inside of his cheek. Belle didn't want to hear Milah's version of his shortcomings.

"Your ex-wife is a moron." The steely warmth in her gaze made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

She tossed her broken shoes into the corner, then nodded toward the covered worktable. "What do you have under there, anyway? Everyone is dying of curiosity."

"Yes, the elephant in the room." He snickered.

"Well, I know it's not a time machine…right?"

"No, but what I have under there may allow us to visit another era," he said mysteriously. "Interested?"

She arched up on dainty tiptoes, her eyes flashing with excitement. "On pins and needles."

"Have a look, then." He gestured toward the lumpy table with a smirk.

Belle lifted the corner of the sheet and peeked, her eyes going wide with happy surprise. "Is that what I think it is?"

###


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: Belle finds out what's under the sheet on Gold's worktable.

A/N: Sorry this took me so long, guys. This was supposed to be for the July a-monthly-rumbelling on Tumblr, but yeah. And then I saw the September prompt… "Friends can totally watch porn together and nothing can happen…no they can't." And this has both.

Barefoot, Belle scrambled over to the worktable and lifted the corner of the sheet to peek. Her eyes widened in happy surprise, her dimples puckering. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Depends on what you think it is." He leaned back against the wall with an indulgent smile, his annoyance from the scene at the diner having faded enough for him to risk teasing her.

Beaming, she yanked the sheet off the table and it billowed to the floor. "Yes! It's a movie projector! Where did you get it? When? Who is it for? Is it a commission? Are you restoring it for someone?" She squealed and waved her hands around the machine, skipping around the table like a young girl.

"So many questions." He laughed at her enthusiasm, then, suddenly cautious, he looked at his shoes, frowning at a scuff mark on the toe. They needed a good polishing.

"What are you planning to do with it?" she persisted, running her finger along the edge of a metal reel.

Gold turned his attention to the contraption. The concept seemed self-explanatory to his mind, but she seemed to want him to come out and say it.

A crash of thunder pierced the quiet patter of rain on the roof, and when Gold shifted his gaze toward Belle again, her eyes were misty and her pink lips parted. "You did this for me?" she asked softly. She stepped closer, laying a hand on his arm.

Oh, she definitely wanted him to come out and say it. Bollocks, he _hated_ bloody sentiment.

"I suppose," he allowed, then bit down on his wayward tongue when her face crumpled and she took a step back.

Gold ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Nothing he did or said in regards to Belle French ever went according to plan. He felt like he was standing on the curb by the library once more, his tongue twisted into knots as he tried to decide whether to come to the movie or go home. Instead, his existence hovered somewhere in between— he was but a spectator in his own life; never a participant. Now, even in his own shop, he had lost his footing.

"Yes," he corrected himself gruffly. "It is. You like movies, right?"

That was all it took to see her brilliant smile beaming his way once more.

"I do." She nodded so hard he thought her head might fall off her shoulders. "Do you have any movies we can watch?"

"I may have one or two in storage. Let me check the inventory." It was a welcome excuse to turn away from the intensity of those too-blue eyes.

The wind howled and the rain intensified, slanting east toward the front of the shop. Gold continued to rummage through the inventory closet while Belle looked through the small pile of movies he'd unearthed. On the top shelf, he found a thick blue-grey cardigan sweater, and offered it to her. "You're still shivering."

She shook her head and giggled, pushing the sweater back at him. "I told you, I'm not cold; I'm excited."

"Nonetheless." He draped the garment around her slender shoulders. "Humor me."

"All right," she allowed, drawing her arms through the sleeves, "then humor me."

He lifted an eyebrow and waited.

"I'm sorry about before. With Ruby and the others. They were way out of line and I should have…I don't know." She toyed with one of the sweater's oversized buttons. "Something other than sit there and do nothing."

Gold waved a dismissive hand. They'd been over this already, and her apology was unnecessary. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But I did." The sheen in her eyes told him tears were near again. "Sitting in silence while another person is insulted is the same as hurtling the insults yourself."

"I suppose I don't make it easy most of the time," he offered, making his way to his desk. He opened a drawer and retrieved a box of tissues, handing her one. "I have something of a temper, as you've witnessed firsthand."

"No, you have a sarcastic streak, and a sharp edge to your wit. I like your way with words." She sniffled and blotted her eyes.

He smiled coldly at her misplaced defense of him. "I'd have just as soon bludgeoned your friends over the head with my cane," he said. "I'm not a good person, Belle." It was important she understood that fact, however many stray dogs he fed or fortune cookies he ate. He was ruthless in his business dealings and eschewed personal connections. Manipulation and force were ways of life for him.

"That's what you would have everyone believe." She crumpled the tissue in her hand with a snort. "Then why didn't you? Cane them, that is?"

He sighed. "Because you're one of the few people I genuinely like. I didn't want to frighten you..." He drew his brows together in a fierce frown. "But I'm not a pet project, some lost soul you can tame and bend to your will."

The look she gave him was entirely too shrewd. "I think you're lonely."

He shrugged. "There are benefits to being alone, you know."

"Such as?"

"I don't wake anyone up when I start screaming at night."

Belle's eyes widened. "I didn't mean…"

"That was a joke, Miss French."

She laughed. "I'm the opposite, I guess. Too much of a people pleaser. I worry about what everyone thinks."

He looked at her quizzically. "Then what are you doing here with me?"

Holding his eyes for a long moment, she caressed one of his hands in both of hers, cradling it as she would something rare and precious. There was that peculiar feeling in his chest again, the one that bloomed whenever she touched him, a cross between suffocation and freefalling.

"I don't care what other people think when I'm with you," she said, giving his hands a light squeeze.

"That's fortunate," he said curtly, looking down at their joined hands. He slipped his hand out of her grip and clapped his hands to break the tension, then stepped closer to the movie projector with a decisive nod. "Well, then. It's raining too hard to go anywhere. May as well tinker with this thing and see if I can get it working."

"Yay!" Belle slid onto the cot and scooted backwards until her back was against the wall, then curled up like a kitten. He watched, bemused, as she tucked the blanket around her hips and covered her bare toes, preparing for the show.

"I don't have any popcorn," he said. "I wasn't expecting…"

"Oh, I'm not hungry." She shook her head. "Besides, you hate popcorn."

He smiled a bit, inordinately pleased that she remembered.

"Right. I'll just…" He motioned toward the machine again, then rummaged through his tools. The last time he'd worked on the projector, he'd been trying to adjust the suspension, but to his surprise, there was already a film loaded on the feed spool.

"How odd." He chewed the inside of his cheek. "I wonder if…"

He hit the power button.

A soft blue light spilled across the darkened room and filled the screen. As the picture brightened into focus, the sound of disco music crackled through the old, lo-fi speaker. A woman's frosted blond hair bobbed up and down while small, whiny screams sounded from her bubble-gum pink lips. A man with a thick, black mustache and a carpet of chest hair grunted in effort, his gold necklace dangling as he thrust on top of the woman.

Gold stared in abject horror at the scene. The picture was grainy, but there was no denying the obvious. The tanned, oiled couple shifted on screen, and the man flipped the young woman onto her stomach and lined himself up with her as the camera angle narrowed to capture their new position in hideous detail.

Belle uncrossed her legs and rose from the cot, head tilted as she stepped closer to the screen. She laughed at the woman's exaggerated moans. "Are those leg warmers? Wow! Seventies porn. How vintage."

For a moment he joined Belle in gawking, mesmerized as the couple continued to thrust and grind, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing off the wood-paneled walls. It reminded him of one of those terrible sea lion shows at an aquatics park. Against his will, a warm sensation swirled in his lower belly and Gold gulped, drawing a deep breath as he felt himself twitch.

The display may have been vulgar, but he was still a man. A man alone with a beautiful woman. In the middle of a rainstorm.

Sweat beaded on his upper lip and an odd prickling sensation creeped up his spine—half arousal, half revulsion. He sprang toward the machine, trying to turn it off. The switch was stuck and he slammed the power button repeatedly, desperate to be rid of the horrible movie. "Damn it, Baelfire! I'm sorry, Belle. My son…I let him take his girlfriend on a tour of the shop the other night."

"But he got it the projector working," Belle pointed out, ever the optimist. "That's great! Besides, what's a little porn between friends? I'm not offended, if that's what you're worried about. There's entertainment value here!" Her laugher was shrill as she shifted her eyes away from the screen. "Friends can totally watch porn together."

 _Friends?_ His heart clawed at his dry throat.

All he could manage in response was a stiff smile. This was not how he envisioned this evening playing out. Disgusted with himself and furious with Bae, he turned his back on the screen.

"How old is he? Your son?" Belle asked, shifting her attention away from the moans and groans of the couple onscreen.

"Old enough to know better and young enough not to care." He winced as the man onscreen drew the woman's legs around his flanks and pounded into her hard. "You might know him better as Neal."

She raised an eyebrow. "Neal Cassidy is your son?"

He couldn't help but grimace at her surprised expression. Neal hadn't been back in Storybrooke for more than a few months, and he didn't care one bit for the idea that he'd crossed paths with Belle. "His reputation often proceeds him." He sighed heavily. "Why, what has he done this time?"

"Nothing! It's a small town and he comes into Granny's for burgers at least a couple of times a week. All my friends think he's handsome." She rolled her eyes.

"I see." His clenched jaw began to ache. Of course Belle and her friends giggled over Bae. Every woman did and—bastard that he was—he was petty enough to be jealous of his own son.

"It's not…I don't mean to pry, but why is Neal not a Gold?" she asked.

He waved away her concern. "His way of asserting his independence. We had a falling out when he was nineteen. He moved to Boston for school, switched to his mother's maiden name, and starting using his middle name as his first—all to spite me. We're over it now for the most part, but he still prefers Neal to Bae." He narrowed his gaze and hardened his voice in warning: "I wouldn't bother getting to know him. He won't last long in a small town like Storybrooke."

Belle laughed. "You think I'm interested in him?"

He stiffened at her lighthearted tone. "Most women are."

"Not me," she said firmly. Like a gazelle, she moved toward him on light, quick steps, then reached for his face, drawing the backs of her fingers from his temple to his chin and circling her thumb through his five o'clock shadow. She rose up on tiptoe, her breath ghosting over his ear. "Neal is an attractive young man. But he's not…you."

 _Oh. Perhaps she didn't really mean friends after all?_

Stunned by the compliment and her closeness, he fumbled for something to do with his hands, seizing on an antique fishing hook on the corner of his desk. He jiggled the heavy piece of metal in his fingers and squeezed. He didn't even like fishing, but Belle's eyes were on his mouth and her lips were inching closer to his. She moistened her full bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, and Gold's mouth went dry. He dropped the hook, snagging it on his trousers. _Damn it._

Belle laid a calming hand against his chest. "Here, let me."

"All right." He inhaled deeply through his nose. She was standing so close he felt her hair brush against his wool waistcoat as she bent down to retrieve the hook. His heartbeat increased its tempo, and Gold was sure she could hear it pounding inside his chest, like a prisoner begging to be rescued.

"Do you have it?" he asked, hating his weak, breathless tone.

"I think so," she said in a small voice.

He shifted his stance as her fingers brushed his thigh again. He could feel the heat of them through the thick wool and his body responded. Gold gritted his teeth; he didn't want to become aroused when Belle's head was hovering at his crotch.

He grasped her elbow and tried to take a step backward.

"Ouch!" She lurched against him, her cheek pressed against his half-hard body.

"Do you need me to help you up?" he asked, trying to be polite. _What the hell was she still doing down there?_

"I, uh, well. I seem to be stuck." Her laugh was feeble.

"Stuck? What do you mean _stuck_?"

"Some of my hair is caught in your belt," she clarified. "Please, no shouting."

"Fine," he gritted out, forcing another breath between his clenched teeth. "I'll just take it off. The belt. I mean the belt!"

"Great idea," she said, sounding relieved.

He carefully wriggled his hands between Belle's face and his belt buckle, but a movement out of the corner of his eye made him pause.

There stood Miss Lucas, her eyes wide as saucers in her pale, wet face. He looked down at Belle's head, still fastened to his crotch, and behind him, a long low moan echoed onscreen where the loathsome "vintage" pornography continued to play.

Miss Lucas's bright red lips stretched in a wide smile. "Is this a bad time?"

xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: Ruby finds Belle and Gold in an awkward embrace. Later, Leroy approaches Belle with some unsolicited advice.  
A/N: Yes, Ruby is still being a jerk, but Gold's not going to take it anymore. Also finally some GrumpBelle/ Dwarf Beauty, because I've been wanting to fic their friendship for a long time.

"Lemme guess…it's not what it looks like." Ruby grinned and flicked droplets of water off her raincoat, then shimmied out of the jacket and dumped it on the worktable.

"Actually, it's exactly what it looks like," Belle snapped. It was a lie, but Ruby's arrogance was really pissing her off. Her hair was still attached to Gold's belt and half her face was pressed against the scratchy wool fabric near his zipper, making it painful to look anywhere but at Ruby's pointy red stilettos. "Don't you knock?"

"Don't you know how to lock a door?" Ruby countered. Belle cringed; the seventies porn couple was still in the throes of their faked orgasms. "It's pouring outside, or I'd guess you couldn't hear me over the sound of your heavy breathing."

"Here to save Miss French from the town monster, Miss Lucas?" Gold asked. Belle felt his body tense, and his knuckles dug into her cheek as he struggled to unbuckle his belt.

"If the knockoff Armani fits…" Ruby sneered.

"It doesn't," Belle interrupted, her heart sinking when Gold referred to her as 'Miss French.' At this rate, she could say goodbye to any hopes of a relationship. "No rescuing required," she added with artificial brightness.

"Yeah, looks like things are going really well." Ruby stepped closer and gave her a condescending pat on the head, then turned to Gold. "Instructional video, huh? Aren't you a little old not to know how it works?"

Belle gritted her teeth, giving Ruby one-eyed glare while Gold continued to struggle with his belt. Her cheek was chafing from where it was pressed against Gold's clothing and her neck was starting to cramp.

A snapping noise pierced the room as the belt came off, and she slumped against his legs, smacking her forehead on his kneecap. "Ow!"

Gold snagged her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. She pressed one hand to her throbbing forehead and the other to her scratched cheek. "Are you all right?" he asked near her ear. His warm hands curled around her upper arms, steadying her.

"I'm…yes, I think so." She took a step back, still massaging her sore face.

"Let me get you some ice," he said, gesturing toward the small refrigerator in the corner. He tossed his belt on his desk, then made his way to the back corner of the shop.

"Grab your Viagra on your way back," Ruby sang out. "Looks like you're gonna need it."

"Most men would in order to get in the mood with you, dearie." Gold barked a dry laugh over his shoulder.

Belle slumped onto the small cot she'd been sitting on earlier and rubbed her temples. She wanted to tell Ruby to stop talking and leave, but the room was spinning and her mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton.

Gold returned to her side, then handed her an old-fashioned ice bag with a screw-top lid, and Belle pressed it against her forehead with a grateful moan.

He lightly tapped her neck with two warm fingers and her pulse skittered. The spicy scent of his aftershave calmed her, and she leaned against his shoulder, forgetting for a moment that they were no longer alone.

"I think these bruises will fade fast." He grimaced, reminding her of their audience. "I'm so sorry, Belle."

"Gross." Ruby stuck out her tongue. "Don't start reenacting the porno until after I leave, okay?"

Belle blinked at her and Gold dropped his hands. "We weren't watching it."

"Evidently." Ruby gestured at the screen where the movie continued to play.

"It was an accident," Belle protested. "The film was there by mistake, and then we couldn't turn the machine off."

"Really." Ruby walked over to the projector and hit the button, and the reel stopped with a creak. "I think that ice is starting to numb your brain, Belles."

"Miss Lucas, to what do we owe the pleasure?" Gold stood and squared his shoulders. "I'm sure there's a strapping young lad waiting in a bathroom stall who requires your particular brand of attention."

"Actually, I'm here with the rent check," Ruby said with saccharine sweetness. "Thought I'd hand-deliver it this month." She flapped a damp, coffee-stained enveloped at him.

Gold gave the envelope a distasteful glare. "Missed the large lockbox labeled R-E-N-T outside the door, did you?"

"Yep, breezed right by it." Ruby said, slapping her hand over her face. "And now I need a drink or bleach for my eyes. Maybe both."

"Help yourself to the scotch." Gold waved a hand toward a crystal decanter and a set of tumblers sitting on his desk.

Ruby dumped the amber liquid into a glass with a smirk, filling it almost to the brim. "Don't mind if I do." She took a huge swallow and choked, sloshing some of her drink on the floor.

"Probably a good thing you've mastered that gag reflex, Miss Lucas." Gold poured modest servings of scotch into two glasses and handed one to Belle.

"Not at all, Gold." Ruby hopped up on the worktable and crossed her legs. "I always gag when I see your ugly face."

"Ruby!" Belle dropped her drink, splattering scotch, ice cubes, and splintered glass all over the polished hardwood. "Oh no! Gold, I'm sorry." She hopped off the cot and searched the room for a broom.

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Relax, Belle. It's just a drink. No need to be so dramatic."

"Sit down, Belle," Gold ordered, snatching the broom and handing her his glass. "I've got this."

While Gold mopped up the liquid and swept up the bits of glass into a dustpan, Belle wrapped her hands around his drink, feeling wretched. What was wrong with Ruby? Ever since Belle had finally started connecting with Gold at the library movie nights, her so-called best friend had been smug and snappish and throwing up opposition at every opportunity.

She needed Ruby to leave before things got worse, but she didn't have the first clue what to say.

Gold shoveled the broken glass into the wastebasket, followed by the empty Johnny Walter bottle, and tied up the bag. "Take this out, would you dearie?" Gold threw the white plastic garbage bag Ruby's feet. "You know your way around the trash."

Ruby froze with her drink halfway to her mouth, then set it down with trembling fingers, her eyes wide and her face white as a sheet. "Are you calling me trash?"

"If the pleather fits." Gold studied his fingernails with quiet nonchalance.

Belle had never seen Ruby move so fast. She watched in stunned silence as Ruby picked up her coat and hurried through the curtain to the front of the shop on wobbly legs.

"Miss Lucas, a moment."

"What?" Ruby half-turned, her dark hair falling over her cheek.

Gold's smirk was cold as ice. "I'll take that rent check now."

Ruby hurled the envelope, sending the paper fluttering, and he caught it. He slipped the envelope inside his breast pocket in one smooth motion, an impassive expression on his handsome face.

Belle hunched her shoulders, wanting the floor to open and swallow her up. Her stomach gave a sickening lurch; he must be furious with her. Who could blame him? Ashamed, she forced herself to meet his gaze. "I'll be right back," she whispered, then hurried toward the front of the shop to catch up with Ruby.

"Ruby! Wait!"

Ruby whirled around, her green eyes snapping. "Can you believe that guy?"

"Yeah, I can." Belle crossed her arms over her chest. "You deserved it."

"What?"

"Your behavior tonight was inexcusable." She wheezed, feeling like a weight was crushing her lungs.

"Are you serious, Belle?" Ruby's hands flew to her hips. "He's so stiff he probably sleeps with his cane up his ass. Not to mention he's old enough to be your father. You're supposed to be the smart one. I thought you had more dignity and a hell of a lot more sense."

The string of accusations stung, and angry tears filled Belle's eyes. She blinked them away, not bothering to explain away her awkward embrace with Gold yet again. Ruby had barged in on them and turned an awkward situation into utter humiliation, and now she wanted to play the injured party?

Belle wanted to scream her frustrations, to fire horrible insults designed to hurt, but she and Ruby had grown up together. They'd supported each other through first crushes and bad breakups and conquered everything side-by-side from acne to the prom. Ever since Belle had thrown a book at Killian "Hook" Jones' head for dipping Ruby's pigtails in glue back in second grade, they'd been sworn besties for life. She still had her half of the friendship bracelet they'd bought together when they were ten in her jewelry box.

Even when Belle had gone to college in Boston while Ruby stayed behind in Storybrooke to help Granny run the diner, they texted almost every day, and when Belle came home to work at the library, they'd picked up right where they left off.

It wasn't so easy to be indifferent to her oldest and closest friend.

"Well?" Ruby tapped her foot. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

 _That did it._

"Me?" Belle squeaked. "You're judging _me_ about relationships? You have a red book where you write down all your conquests and rate them on their performance, and I'm the slut." She was starting to shake, and her throat felt like it was full of sawdust. "You know how I feel about Gold. How long I've waited to find someone to love who might actually love me back. Do you know how hard tonight was for me? Well, let me tell you something: it was very hard. I needed a friend today, Ruby. I thought that person was you. You said you'd always be there for me, so how did this happen? Why weren't you there?"

xoxo

Belle sat alone in a booth in a back corner of the diner, picking at the bits of crispy dried cheese on the edges of her bacon cheeseburger. It looked and smelled delicious, but her appetite had withered when Ruby had flounced past her table without even a glance in her direction. Belle signed and frowned at her iced tea. She'd deliberately sat as far from Ruby's section as possible, but she should have gone to Tony's for pizza. Two weeks had gone by since her terrible humiliation, and she hadn't been able to face either Ruby or Gold.

"Oh, hey. It's the movie librarian lady," a gruff male voice said. "I'm Leroy. I work across the street from the library at Snowy White's." He held out a beefy, callused hand.

Belle shook his hand without making eye contact and pulled a book out of her handbag. She wasn't in the mood for conversation, and the last time she'd crossed paths with Leroy, he had been a total jerk. She seemed to be running into jerks a lot lately. "Yes, I know who you are," she said.

"Snowy White's is the dry cleaner," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "I work the front desk."

"I've seen you in the window." She didn't add that she often spied on Gold when he went into the cleaner's with a bundle of shirts to be laundered, or came out with a collection of pressed suits on hangers. She pressed her lips together and cracked the cover on her book, hoping Leroy would leave her alone to read and cry into her burger in peace, but still he stood there, hovering beside the table.

He plopped down on the banquette opposite her. "You look upset, sister. What's wrong?"

Belle looked up warily. She was at odds with her best friend and she had been completely humiliated front of a man she really liked. The _only_ man she'd ever really liked. She couldn't handle another scolding from Leroy or anyone else. "Are you going to yell at me?"

He frowned and pulled his cap lower across his forehead, shading his eyes. "Would I have come over here and sat down if I was gonna yell at you?"

"You yelled at me at the movie night last month." She twisted her mouth. "Remember? I was being too loud, you said. Then you hit me with a box of Junior Mints."

"Oh." His neck flushed. "Forgot about that. I'm really sorry. It's Ruby who got under my skin, to be honest. Girl's got a mouth the size of Michigan. Also, I, uh, get a little emotional over movies."

"Me too." She felt the shadow of a smile cross her face. Leroy was gruff and a little rough around the edges, but there was a kindness in his hazel eyes that put her at ease. And at the moment, the fact that he found Ruby annoying was a point in his favor. She set her book aside. Maybe some company would do her good after all. "Would you like some fries? Granny fixed me this huge plate, but I'm not really hungry."

"Yeah, thanks." He removed his cap, and caught the basket of fries she shoved into the center of the table. "You talk, I'll eat."

"Deal," she said, and this time her smile was genuine.

Leroy attacked the food, and Belle found that once she started talking, she couldn't stop. She told him everything, filling him in about the uncomfortable movie nights, the awkward lunch and dinner out she and Gold had shared, and the horrible evening at the shop with the vintage porn film when Ruby had ruined everything.

"I should have kicked Ruby out myself," Belle said.

He snorted. "Nah. Gold knows how to take care of himself. But your date didn't sound so bad before Ruby got there."

"It was fine. Better than fine." Flushing, she looked away, remembering how close she and Gold had come to kissing before Ruby barged in. "And then it wasn't. That was two weeks ago, and I haven't spoken to Gold since. I call and hang up; I walk by the store and peek in the window, but I can't bring myself to go inside. Three days ago I saw him at the park."

"What happened at the park?" Leroy took a long drag from his soda.

"I waved," she said, cringing at how lame she sounded. "He waved back!"

"That's it?" Leroy snorted again.

Belle took a sip of tea and changed the subject. "Do you…I mean, what do you think of him? Gold."

He clamped down on a toothpick. "It doesn't matter what I think of him. Not me or anyone else. All that matters is you like him. You need to be brave, Belle. If you really like this guy, and it sounds like you do, tell him. Take charge. And be honest about how you feel. Chances are he feels the same, but isn't sure how to say so."

"What if he doesn't?" Belle wasn't sure she could open herself up to another rejection.

"At least you'll know." Leroy rolled the toothpick in his fingertips. "You said he likes Chinese food. Today's Saturday; date night. And it sounds like he gets twitchy out in public—"

"Twitchy?" Belle interrupted.

Leroy raised an eyebrow. "You know what I mean. The diner, the movies…things seem to go wrong when you're out. Show up at his house tonight with Mr. Wong's and a movie and see what happens."

"Sounds…adventurous. The last time I surprised him, it didn't end well." She laughed nervously and tapped the cover of her book. "The stories I read about always end so much more happily than real life."

He shook his head. "This isn't a book. This is your life. Don't think, Belle. _Go_."

Belle bit her lip, gripped in indecision.

He reached across the table and patted her hand. "Look, you asked me what I think, and I think Gold's a self-important jerk."

"Hey!"

"You asked. But here's the funny thing, sister. Sometimes people are grumpy because they're lonely. They're waiting to see if someone will bother to peel back the layers and see if they're worth it. You could be that person for Gold. But you'll never know unless you give it another try."

"You're right," she said. It was the best advice she'd heard in a long time, maybe ever. She was lonely herself these days, and certainly feeling more than a little grumpy. "Thanks Leroy."

He flushed with the compliment, then rubbed his dark beard. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

He dug around in his pocket, then pulled out a crumpled square of paper. "Would you like a coupon for Snowy White's? Bring in six sweaters, only pay for four."

She nodded. "That's quite an offer."

"I've got a whole book of 'em," he said excitedly. "And hey, since we work opposite each other, maybe I could help you. People could drop off their books at the counter when they're in a hurry, and I could bring them to you at the library at the end of the day. Maybe you could leave some coupons for Snowy's at the circulation desk, too?"

"I think I can do that," Belle agreed with a smile.

"Great!"

"So, does this mean…are we becoming friends?" She held her breath, not realizing how much the answer meant to her until she'd asked the question.

"Yeah." He grinned, showing two rows of gleaming white teeth, a charming little gap between the two front ones. "Yeah, I think we are."

###


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Belle takes her new friend Leroy's advice and shows up at Gold's with dinner—unannounced and uninvited.  
A/N: For the January A-Monthly-Rumbelling prompt: "Please, don't tell anyone." _Hi all! Long time, no update. Thanks for your patience with me! I hope everyone's 2018 is off to a smashing start!_

Branan Gold was a terrible excuse for a fugitive.

In the past two weeks, he had played duck and weave at the park, pretended to study a display of star fruit in the grocery store, and even crouched behind his display case in the shop, the tips of his ears burning with shame as he waited for a certain auburn-haired beauty to cross the street and pass by on the sidewalk.

Gold had been avoiding Belle French for exactly 13 days, ever since the pornography incident in his back room. The circumstances went far beyond his discomfiture at the X-rated seventies film his son Neal had loaded on the old-fashioned projector. Gold had behaved like an overgrown child, letting Ruby Lucas worm under his skin like an infection with her sardonic humor and cutting remarks. All he'd cared about in the moment was getting his pound of flesh on his own turf, but he'd regretted volleying back Ms. Lucas's insults every day since.

Mostly he regretted embarrassing Belle, but he didn't know quite how to apologize.

Besides getting tongue-tied in her presence, he was absolute garbage at playing inconspicuous. His bad knee made quick moves impossible, and his penchant for bespoke Italian wool caused him to stand out in a crowd. The worst part was, he didn't want to avoid Belle—not really. Each time he'd seen her, he'd been unable to stop himself from staring—drinking in her remarkable beauty had become a habit he couldn't seem to break. He'd longed to reach out, to say hello, tease her into speaking first. He was half agony and half hope that she would walk up to him and slap his smug face or yell at him at the top of her lungs. Anything to break the tense silence between them. But other than waiting for Belle to make the first move, what other option was available?

Leaning heavily on his cane, Gold poured himself another healthy glass of scotch—his third of the evening—and wondered not for the first time why he was such an unmitigated ass. _It's self-preservation, nothing more._

Another plaintive whine came from the back porch from the half-grown puppy he'd found in the alley between his shop and the Fish and Chips place next door. The dog had shown up about a month ago, fur muddy and smelling of sewage. He'd rolled up his shirtsleeves and given him a bath in the sanitary tub and a bowl of kibble, and the puppy had come around every morning for a week, whimpering at Gold with wet, melting brown eyes. One afternoon he had followed Gold home and set up camp on the porch. _Little savage._ He could hang around outside of the house all he liked, but if he didn't leave off the crying and scratching at the door, Gold was going to make good on his repeated threats to call Animal Control.

Ignoring the whimpering pup, he limped over to his favorite leather recliner, settled against the worn leather, then pulled an afghan over his legs. Hell, maybe he'd even sleep downstairs tonight. It seemed like exactly the sort of thing a crabby old bastard would do. His bad knee was tired, loose and wobbly from the effects of the alcohol, warm and languid in his veins.

He flipped on the television and leafed through the channels till he found something mindless. The Cooking Channel was doing a foodumentary on the history of popcorn—his ex-wife's favorite. Foul, disgusting excuse for a snack. He slumped deeper into chair and forced himself to watch the program, disgust keeping him from drifting back into daydreams of Belle using his shoulder as a pillow while their fingers intertwined inside a box of Junior Mints.

Another insistent whine filtered through the back wall of the house, and when the mewls turned to howls, Gold drained his glass of scotch in one fiery gulp and peered at the blank screen of his cell phone. _What a pathetic sack he was._

There was no point in pursuing this thing with Belle, only to be cast aside when she discovered what everyone else already had—he was too boring to bother truly knowing and too damaged inside to be worth the trouble. He was like one of those vases that eager, star-eyed innocents took onto Antiques Roadshow, hoping to strike it big with a valuable piece—the veneer was smooth and polished, but the vessel itself worth the grand total of $20 and change.

Gold glanced at the back windows; it was only September—still warm enough outside for an animal to be safe and comfortable—but maybe he should let the dog in for a couple of hours.

The doorbell rang, its obnoxious peal echoing through the house. Gold scowled; no one ever came to visit, so it was either a sales call or his son. The boy was always forgetting his key; it was a miracle he had survived three years of college in Boston. All he'd managed to accomplish was spending $200,000 in tuition for a pre-law degree and getting expelled a semester before graduation. Neal's lock-picking skills weren't appreciated—particularly when executed on university property.

At 22, the boy was taking a year to find himself. Translation: he was situated at the top of the stairs in his old bedroom, spending his days playing video games and his evenings doodling in a notebook and making eyes at Emma Swan. _So much wasted potential._

Muttering as he padded into the hallway, Gold threw open the door.

To Belle French.

"I've brought Chinese," she announced, peeking over the top of a huge brown paper bag.

Shoots of steam snaked into the cooling evening air, causing curly tendrils of hair to stick to her forehead. Gold took a half-step backward in surprise. He'd never expected her to show up here. Every lousy excuse he'd made about why continuing their friendship was a terrible idea flew out of his brain like bats swarming out of a cave at dusk.

 _Yes, he was a terrible fugitive indeed._

"I hope you haven't had dinner yet." The question in her muffled voice came from behind the bag.

His stomach gurgled on command, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He'd thought to simply polish off the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue and pass out in his recliner, but he decided against sharing such pitiful plans.

Gold sniffed the air in appreciation. "Sizzling garlic shrimp?"

The bag lowered, and her face split in a wide smile, all shell pink lips and gleaming white teeth. "I wouldn't dare darken your door without it."

He hefted the bag from her arms with a short laugh. The scotch had done its job, and he was a little tipsy, his head fuzzy. "Come on in," he said, leading the way through the foyer into the kitchen.

The bag seemed bottomless as Belle pulled out an endless parade of white square cartons, lining them up on the counter like little soldiers. Auburn curls were tousled around her shoulders, and she looked deliciously at home in his kitchen in blue jeans and a fitted white oxford shirt unbuttoned almost to the middle of her chest. A frilly pink tank top accentuated her lovely breasts and creamy skin. He shifted his weight and clenched the handle of his cane.

"You've enough to feed an army in here," he said, dragging his gaze away from her décolletage. A pamphlet fluttered to the floor and he swiped it up, relieved to have something useful to do. "And dry cleaning coupons?"

"Those are for you. Compliments of Leroy over at Snowy White's." Another one of her sunny smiles lit up the dreary room.

"I've never gotten a coupon from Leroy in ten years of taking my suits there. He must really like you." Instead of staring at her like a halfwit, he busied himself with fetching napkins and silverware, while Belle dished up plates piled high with garlic shrimp, Singapore noodles, fried rice, and boneless spare ribs.

The steam rolled off the food in white, puffy waves, making his forehead tingle. A few minutes later they were ready to sit down, and his buzz was already wearing off. He leaned against the counter for support; his face felt numb, his tongue two sizes too big for his mouth. How stupid would he look if he dropped his food? His sweaty hands tightened around the edges of his plate as he shuffled toward the kitchen table.

"I'm hot," he blurted, his leg twitching when Belle chose the chair beside his. "I meant the food is hot. Not me. I'm not hot…" His upper lip prickled with sweat, and he blotted his face with a napkin.

Belle set her fork down. "Gold?"

"Yes?"

She smiled, her azure eyes soft and kind. "Relax, okay? It's just takeout, not an interrogation."

"I appreciate that, Belle, but I need to say something."

"All right." She folded her hands and bit down on her lower lip.

"I'm really sorry for my behavior at the shop a couple of weeks ago." He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "The movie was inexcusable, but so was my treatment of Miss Lucas."

"It's all right. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have left without saying goodbye. Ruby was rude to both of us, and it made me so angry I couldn't see straight. And then I saw you out at the market and on the street, but I didn't know what to say. So many times I started to walk over and talk to you, but I couldn't get the words out." She bit her lip again. "Then a friend gave me some advice. He told me if I truly cared about this—us—I had to find a way in, break the tension. So here I am."

"I'm glad." The tightness in his chest loosened and he twirled a forkful of lo mein round and round while it cooled. Knowing he wasn't alone in his nervousness—or his growing feelings—gave him more hope than he'd had in a long time. "And you don't owe me an apology, Belle. Nothing that happened was your fault."

"You know—" she placed her warm, soft hand over his—"we spend an awful lot of our time together apologizing and explaining ourselves. Let's just eat some dinner and chat about normal things."

He turned his hand over and squeezed her fingers. "I would like that."

She scooted closer, until their knees touched under the table. "How was your day at the shop? Have you acquired any fascinating new objects?"

"Knock, knock." Neal entered through the back door, an arm draped around Emma Swan's shoulders. "Hiya Pop. Is this a moo shu pork party?"

 _Perfect._

"It _was_ a party for two," Gold muttered under his breath. He dropped his fork on a sigh, his hopes of a quiet evening with Belle dashed. For once, things had been going well and selfishly, he didn't want to share her or open himself up to embarrassment. "As usual, son, your timing is impeccable."

"Yeah?" Neal chuckled, eyeing the countertop filled with takeout boxes. "I've got a talent for sniffing out Chinese."

Gold snorted. "I think you mean food in general. Belle, this is Bae, er, Neal, and his girlfriend, Emma."

"I remember." Belle grinned at his son and Emma, welcoming and gracious as always. "Join us, please! And help yourselves—I brought plenty."

xoxo

It hadn't been the Saturday night she'd planned, but it was the most pleasant one Belle had spent in weeks.

Buoyed by Leroy's pep talk, she had abandoned her cheeseburger and stomped up Gold's porch steps, her stilettos clicking in time to the nervous thump of her heart. She rang the doorbell and held her breath, clutching the oversized sack of Chinese food to her chest like a lifeline. She'd never shown up at anyone's house with dinner unannounced. Maybe she should have called first to make sure he was home, or hadn't eaten, or if he still liked Chinese food, or…

 _Belle, you think too much._ Leroy's encouragements echoed in her ears.

But she needn't have worried. Gold's home was an extension of his shop—comfortable and resembling a museum in its vast collection of things; teeming with gleaming wall-to-wall hardwood, threadbare area rugs, and antiques of all shapes and sizes. Then there was the man himself who, beneath the grouchy exterior, was so much more than met the eye. His insightful questions about the library and his admiring glances made her feel intelligent and special, and she felt herself redden when he insisted on pulling out her chair when she rose from the table.

After a lively dinner, Belle, Gold, Neal, and Emma moved to the den to nibble on Mr. Wong's trademark fortune cookies and fresh oranges. Belle sank into the leather loveseat and patted the spot beside her. Gold looked surprised, but he moved his arm over the back of the sofa and edged half an inch closer. Belle frowned; she would have to work harder on putting him at ease and showing him his touch was welcome.

"Thank you for dinner, Belle." His lips almost grazed her ear and Belle shivered in delight. "Everything was delicious."

"That Chinese was money and I'm stuffed." Neal dropped onto the couch opposite the loveseat with a groan. "Caps lock on the delicious, Belle."

"My pleasure. I'm so glad you enjoyed it."

"Anyway, how is work at the library? I mean, I don't really do the thing with the…" Neal mimed turning pages. "Ya know, with the books?"

"Reading?" Gold supplied dryly, and they all laughed.

The younger man was goofy, but his wide grin and the laugh lines bracketing his generous mouth were absolutely charming, reminding Belle of his father's cautious, lopsided smile. Every so often, Gold grinned wide enough to showcase his generous dimples and Belle's heart fluttered. She wanted to press a kiss to his cheek and nuzzle her face against his whiskers. She wanted to sink her hands into his hair and pull him in for a kiss, right in front of Neal and Emma.

If she was attracted to Gold before tonight, watching the interactions between father and son had her half in love with him. Their gentle squabbling was endearing, the way Gold pretended to be put out with his son, yet pride was an undercurrent in every word he said.

"But I dig on the whole movie thing you're doing outside," Neal added, scanning Netflix in search of something for them all to watch.

"Me too," Emma hollered from the kitchen where she was making hot chocolate. "I like the way you mix new releases in with classics."

"Papa loves to read, though. He likes orchestra and opera and poetry." Neal carried a fistful of fried noodles to his mouth. "All that classy shit. Just like you."

"Your father—and his love of 'classy shit'—is absolutely charming." Belle linked her arm through his and sidled closer until she and Gold were seated hip-to-hip, thighs pressed together, his delicious, spicy scent making her nostrils flare and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Charming, huh?" Another grin split Neal's face, and he leaned forward, warming to his task of would-be matchmaker. "You know, he's an animal lover, too."

Belle squeezed Gold's knee, delighted when he jumped a bit. He wasn't as unaffected by her as he pretended to be. "Yes, you have quite a few strays coming to the side door of the shop for scraps, don't you, Gold? Before you know it, you'll have a pet of your own." She cocked her head and sipped her Gewürztraminer, hearing another tiny mewl from outside. "Speaking of animals, I've been hearing barking from the direction of the backyard all evening. Do the neighbors have a dog?"

The patter of tiny feet clicked against the floorboards, and a half-grown chocolate brown pug with a square face rounded the back of the sofa and jumped into Gold's lap.

"Oh!" Belle squealed.

"Your dog was crying outside, Mr. Gold," Emma called. "So I let him in."

"This isn't my dog." Gold crossed his arms and tried to wriggle away. "He's just another stray. Take him back outside."

"Right." Neal snorted. "You just feed him and let him sleep here. Makes total sense. I suppose that's _not_ his water bowl out in the pantry, too." He lifted a stack of mail. "Look, here's his vet bill—right on top."

The puppy wormed against Gold's chest, nudging Belle out of the way with a plaintive moan, then attacked his master's face with a long pink tongue.

"Oh, he loves you, Gold. Adorable, darling thing!" Belle cooed at the puppy and scratched him behind the ears. An animal lover herself, she spent every Saturday morning at the Storybrooke Animal Shelter. Sometimes she would sit on the tile floor and cuddle the dogs for her entire shift. "What's his name?"

"He doesn't have a name. He doesn't live here because he doesn't belong to me, the little beastie." To prove his point, Gold scooped the puppy up and deposited him into Belle's lap.

"Why are you such a hard ass?" Neal shook his head.

"Years of practice." Gold waved a hand. "But if you don't like it, feel free to move out of your old bedroom and into your own place."

"I think he's hungry," Belle said, ignoring Gold's harsh words and gruff demeanor. The grooves in his forehead softened when he looked at that little wrinkled black face, the same way they did when he looked at his son.

"I don't think we should feed a dog Chinese food," Emma announced, returning from the kitchen. She tapped the dark frame of her glasses. "Too rich for his stomach."

Neal nodded. "You're right, babe. How about a piece of that leftover pizza, instead? Pizza crust is a lot like a bagel."

"Great idea. I'll go get it." Emma went back to the kitchen, her long ponytail swinging behind her, and Belle hid a grin as Neal watched her go. He was head-over-heels with the lovely, no-nonsense blonde, and Belle thought they made an excellent match.

Belle squinted in thought. She didn't wish to intrude, but feeding a puppy takeout was never a good idea. "What about puppy chow?" she suggested.

They all looked at Gold, who opened his mouth, then clamped it shut without saying a word.

Neal sent his father another feigned disgusted look. "We don't have any. He's not _our_ dog."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Gold muttered. "His food is in the closet at the top of the stairs." He turned to Belle, his amber eyes wide and beseeching. "Please don't tell anyone about this."

"You have my word." She splayed her hand over her heart, which was now pounding so hard she thought the entire neighborhood could hear it.

Forget halfway; she was almost certainly three-quarters of the way in love with him.

###


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Summary: On her way to a conference, Belle can't resist stopping at Granny's, giving her and Ruby a chance to clear the air. Belle arrives in New York City to a surprise in her hotel room.  
A/N: We're finally getting to where I've been wanting to go, and I'm excited. _

Staying away from Granny's was the sensible decision, but Belle had never valued her head over her heart—especially when it came to those luscious hamburgers.

Besides, avoiding her favorite place and her favorite lunch just because Ruby worked there was cowardice. Ordering a burger and fries to go, on the other hand, was the perfect compromise. It was quite civilized, really: she got the meal she craved, and she and Ruby didn't have to glare at each other from across the restaurant or feign politeness if Belle sat in her section. Win-win.

Anyway, she was in a hurry, en route to a library conference in New York City—her first. Attending the Art Libraries Society of North America Conference was prestigious; a highly-sought after opportunity, and for the first time, Mayor Mills had approved the budget for Belle to attend.

She had important places to be and no time to stay and exchange half-hearted pleasantries or endure insults. Win-win-win.

Belle rolled her suitcase through the door of the diner and parked it next to the coat rack. She checked her watch. With any luck, her order would be ready and she would be outside meeting her Uber drive within five minutes.

A glimpse of Ruby's dark head made her falter for a moment, but Belle dug her toes into the tile, standing her ground. There was no telling what kind of burgers New York City would offer. Sure, it was one of the world's culinary capitals, but she'd yet to taste a burger as good as Granny's. And Manhattan food prices would run a budget-savvy girl out of the city in no time. No way she would shell out $45 for a hamburger a la carte. Not if she expected Mayor Mills to ever let her travel on the town dime again.

 _Quit rationalizing, Belle. Get the food and go._

She licked her dry lips and scanned the diner. Sundays always carried a steady stream of customers in and out of the diner, and most of the tables were full. The wait staff was moving quickly; trays piled high with hot food sailed through the restaurant, balanced on nimble finger tips.

Granny was in the open kitchen, facing the grill, while Ruby was busy at the cash register and didn't seem to notice her. On the counter in front of an empty stool sat Belle's usual: a hamburger dripping with cheddar cheese, extra pickles, steaming hot fries, and iced tea with a slice of lemon. Jackpot. Belle licked her lips again and inhaled.

It looked so delicious she almost forgot her order was supposed to be to-go.

She checked the Uber app on her phone; her ride to the airport would be pulling onto Main Street in the next two minutes. Belle narrowed her eyes toward Ruby, who was still cashing out customers and had yet to glance her way.

Had she served Belle's order at the counter on purpose?

After all, Ruby still held a grudge against Mary Margaret Nolan for not giving her a Valentine in the third grade, and that had been over fifteen years ago. Punishing Belle for daring to show up here during her shift was a definite possibility.

The plan had been to eat in the car on the way to the airport, but her stomach rumbled, protesting at missing breakfast in favor of last-minute ironing and packing. She slid onto the stool, surrendering to the tantalizing food. She wasn't going to let Ruby get the best of her this time. She'd pretend eating in suited her fine, even catch a later flight if she had to.

"How goes it, Sister?" Leroy was seated at the counter two stools over, tucking into an enormous stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

"Hi Leroy." She smiled, but it felt more like a grimace. The rich, fatty aroma of cooked beef perfumed the air and her mouth watered. A temporary solution to her problems on a bun. "Can I get some ketchup?"

"Sure." He grinned and launched the bottle down the countertop, then moved his plate over and settled next to her. "So things went well the other night with Gold, huh?"

She dumped ketchup on the plate, stuffing a fat steak fry in her mouth. It was meltingly tender inside, the skin crisp and salty. She moaned and ate another, eying Leroy as she chewed. "Yes," she said around a mouthful. "And thanks again for telling me to just go for it." She swallowed. "But how did you know I didn't blow it?"

"Wild guess." He glanced at her plate then nodded toward the corner of the diner occupied by her suitcase. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah! To a library conference. I'm excited to meet other librarians from around the country and pick up some tips." She picked up the burger and took a bite. Tender, juicy, and cooked to a perfect medium, just the way she liked it. She closed her eyes and savored the flavors as she chewed.

"You'll do amazing. Probably teach those stuffy, big-city libraries a thing or two!" Leroy pushed his empty plate away with a contented sigh and motioned for the bill.

She smiled, grateful for his faith in her. "Thanks, Leroy. That means a lot."

"Need a ride to the airport?" He jerked his thumb toward the door. "My Toyota's right outside."

"Thanks, but I set up an Uber." She looked out the front window. "They should be here any minute."

"Sounds like you've got it under control. Let me know if you change your mind."

"Will do."

She was diving in for another bite when Ruby sauntered to the counter, a brown bag clutched in one hand. "Hi, Belle. Hungry?"

There was something about the smirk playing at the corners of Ruby's mouth that made Belle's gut burn with fury. Now she knew Ruby had messed up her order on purpose. She crammed another fry in her mouth and stood up, straddling the stool. "It's so like you to pull something like this, Ruby. Ever since we were kids you've been this way, and I don't know why I didn't see it sooner."

Ruby shook her head, her long, dark ponytail swishing with the motion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I ordered my food to go! Maybe I had a reason. Maybe I was in a hurry. Do you ever think of anyone except yourself?" Belle leaned over the counter, practically spitting in Ruby's face. All the pent up frustrations of weeks of tension between them crawled along her skin, itching to get out.

"Belle, you don't understand. That isn't your food," Ruby said, taking a hesitant step back.

"Yeah, sure." Belle popped a pickle slice in her mouth, meeting Ruby's wide-eyed gaze while she chewed.

"No, really." Ruby held up the bag clutched between her fingers. "Your order is right here."

The pickle turned acrid in her mouth and she choked it down, staring in horror at the half-eaten plate of food. "Who's is this?"

Ruby nodded toward the cluster of tables in the middle of the diner. "It's his."

"Hello, Belle." There stood Gold, leaning on his cane, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

Belle cleared her throat. _This could not be happening._ "You ordered a hamburger with cheddar cheese and extra pickles, fries, and unsweetened iced tea with lemon?"

He inclined his head, his mouth twitching. "I did."

"What-what are the odds?" she stammered.

"Oh yeah," Ruby drawled. "That never happens."

Belle pressed her hands to her cheeks. "Oh my goodness, This is so embarrassing. Gold, I'm-I'm so sorry." She snatched the bag of takeout from Ruby and rushed across the diner. "Here, let me give you some of my fries. Or here"—she shoved the bag of food at him—"go ahead and take mine."

His chocolate eyes shone with humor, and he shook his head. "Belle, it's no matter. Truly. Watching you enjoy a hamburger is a singular experience. Even better than watching you wrangle Singapore noodles with chopsticks." He took a step closer, closing his fingers gently around her wrist. The rough pad of his thumb stroked the sensitive skin of the underside, doing crazy things to her pulse.

"It's just that I'm going out of town and I didn't know when I might…get another burger." She licked her salt-flecked lips, feeling a rush of arousal at his touch alongside total stupidity for sounding like a moron. As if hamburgers weren't available on every street corner in America.

"Granny's has the best I've ever had, too." His thumbnail scraped across the fleshy part of her palm. "And if there were anyone in Storybrooke I would share my extra pickles and fries with, it would be you."

"Thank you," she said, feeling her cheeks turn redder by the second. Searching for something to say, she blurted, "How-how's Winston?"

"Winston?" He lifted an eyebrow.

She remembered slightly too late that she'd promised not to tell anyone about the puppy. Her brain-always in an ongoing battle to catch up to her mouth. "You know the _visitor_ at your house?"

"Right. The visitor." The furrows in his forehead disappeared and he smiled again.

"Anyway," she rushed on, "I assume you haven't given him a name yet, so I've been calling him that in my head."

"Winston, huh?" He tapped his cane on the floor, looking thoughtful.

"If you don't like that, there's also Bear or Beast," she suggested.

"You've given this some thought, haven't you?"

"He needs a name. Oh! How about Rumple? He has that little rumpled, scrunched up face. Oh! That'd be perfect!" She clapped her hands.

"Rumple." Gold nodded. "Good choice. Too bad we don't know where he is."

"You _lost_ him?"

"I'm teasing. Neal's home with him. They're probably eating stuffed crust pizza and lounging on the sofa. Getting ready to pee in my bed."

She pressed her lips together. "Neal or Rumple?"

"Anybody's guess."

She giggled and his smile widened into a grin, the appearance of his dimples making his ridiculously handsome face even more attractive. His thumb brushed her mouth, its warm roughness scalding her like a brand, and she shivered.

"You had a little ketchup," he said apologetically. He held up his thumb for her inspection and drew it toward his mouth, then froze like a deer facing a speeding truck. The bit of skin above the top of his tie turned a mottled red.

 _Oh._ She looked around the diner, the bustling room suddenly so silent that the only noise was the trickle of lemonade cycling through the beverage dispenser and the slow fadeout of a song on the jukebox. Everyone in the diner was staring at them, including Ruby and Leroy, both of whom had clownish grins plastered across their faces.

The ketchup had been there the entire time she was yammering about the puppy. And in her enthusiasm over choosing names, she'd forgotten they were standing in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

Face flaming, she forced herself to ignore the prying eyes and turned back to Gold. "I have to go because I have to…you know, go. Trip. Suitcase. So I'll see you soon?"

"Soon," he agreed softly, and the way his mouth hugged the word turned her knees into jelly.

She grabbed her suitcase and wheeled it out of the diner, her pulse skidding and her cheeks burning before she did something else stupid, like pitch forward into his arms in front of the entire town.

On impulse, she whirled around to go back, to tell him she'd be going out of town for a conference; that she would call when she returned. Maybe they could have dinner and watch another movie and pick up where they left off, but her Uber to the airport was parked at the curb, waiting. The driver waved and beeped.

"Belles, hold up."

 _Ruby._

Belle rounded on her with a scowl. "Why're you here?" She set her takeout down on top of her suitcase and crossed her arms over her chest. "Because if it's to tell me again how I'm making a mistake or assure me you're doing me a favor by warning me off Gold, you can forget it. I'm not the slightest bit interested in what you have to say."

"No. No, that's not why I came out here."

"Then what do you want?" She clenched the strap of her handbag.

Ruby looked at the pavement. "You, uh, forgot to pay for your burger."

Well, that was one way to deflate her ego. "Fine." She fished in her bag for the money and pressed a $20 bill into Ruby's hand. "Keep the change."

'Wait!" Ruby winced. "Your bill was just a convenient excuse to come out here. Can we talk?"

The driver beeped again, gesturing at Belle to hurry.

"What?" Belle asked, pretending to shade her eyes from the sun. "As you can see, I have a car waiting. I need to go."

"This'll just take a second."

Belle sighed and motioned for the driver to wait. "Okay. Talk fast."

"So we were kind of jerks at the diner the other night." Ruby frowned down at the sidewalk again and hugged herself. "You remember when," she added, referencing the evening their friends had teased her about Gold and then ganged up on him, flustered him into leaving. "And then I made it worse. I actually came to the shop to apologize for what we said to you at Granny's and when I saw you there watching porn, I went a little crazy."

"For the last time! We. Were. Not. Watching. Porn." Belle spat out, her hands on her hips. "And so what if we were? What is it about the idea of Gold and me together that's so unbearable? You practically howled at the moon."

"Nothing." Ruby winced and leaned back against the diner's dingy grey siding. "The truth is I'm jealous, that's why I didn't want you to go out with Gold."

They were interested in the same guy? Belle bit her lip. Of all the excuses she'd expected Ruby to make for her behavior this was at the bottom of the list. "But...I didn't even know you liked Gold. What about Archie?"

Tearful green eyes flicked up to hers. "I love Archie. He's wonderful. He treats me better than any guy I've ever dated."

Belle shook her head, trying to process all the information Ruby was throwing at her. "Now I really don't understand." She gestured at the diner window, where she could see Gold bent over his burger—what she'd left of it—at the counter. "Don't you want me to be happy? To have someone special to me, the way you do?"

"No. Yes! I mean, of course I want that for you." Ruby ran her hand through her ponytail and tugged on the end. "See Belle, that's what makes you so sweet and wonderful. You're so crazy about Gold that when I say I'm jealous, you automatically think I want him or something. No, sweetie. I'm jealous of _you_."

"But why?" Belle felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "Ever since grade school it's been you and me together. Running to the market for double chocolate chip ice cream at 2 a.m., or volunteering at the animal shelter and cuddling the puppies all day. Jules Vern nights!"

A sneer twisted Ruby's lips. "Don't you mean it's been you and then me one step behind?"

"What are you talking about? You have a wonderful life." The Uber driver beeped again, and Belle frantically signaled him to please wait another minute.

"Belles, don't you see? You have everything. You're smart, beautiful, educated. You have your own place. Not to mention a career that involves more than flipping burgers and balancing coffee and milkshakes on a tray." Ruby frowned. "I live with my Grandma and wait tables at her diner and change linens at the inn."

"Rubes…" The nickname fell out of her mouth before Belle could stop herself.

"Please, let me get this out." Ruby laid a hand on her arm. "Ever since we were kids, I've wished I could be more like you—someone clever and kind who people look up to and respect. I'm not proud of myself or how I treated you and Gold. But the only thing I had going for me that you didn't was a love life. I see the way he looks at you. And if there was any doubt about the way he feels, what happened in the diner today confirmed it."

Belle couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was too much to process what Gold may or may not be feeling at the moment, and analyzing her love life could wait. Ruby was hurting. "What you have with Archie is real," she insisted.

Ruby smiled. "You're right; it is. He's the one who helped me see that my lashing out at Gold wasn't about him at all. It was me projecting my insecurities onto you. I don't expect you to understand."

"Sounds like Archie. And I do understand." Belle touched Ruby's shoulder. "You're bold and sexy and smart—and you don't take crap from anyone. Me? I'm just a pushover."

"You are not!" Ruby shook her head hard. "You just care so much about other people; you're always putting them first. When you decided to be selfish about Gold, I guess it surprised me more than anything. But it's been good for you, actually considering your own feelings instead of everyone else's."

"You've been a role model for me in more ways than you realize, Rubes."

"I guess we complement each other pretty well, huh?" Ruby laughed. "The she-wolf and the martyr: together forever."

It was Belle's turn to laugh, and God, did it feel good to laugh with Ruby again. "I've always said you and I combined make the perfect woman. That's why we're best friends."

The Uber driver beeped again, and Belle swatted her hand in his direction.

"Do you think you can forgive your oldest and bestest friend for being a total bitch?" Ruby's eyes flickered with hope. "I really, really miss you, Belles."

"I've missed you, too." Belle wrapped her arms around her friend and squeezed her tight. "Apology accepted."

"And maybe we could try a double date sometime? Since Gold's worked his way into my best friend's heart, what the hell? I better make room for him in mine."

"Sounds great." Belle beamed, loving the idea of her friends coming to like and accept Gold the way she had. Then her smile faded. They hadn't even kissed yet. And saying he'd see her soon was incredibly vague, wasn't it? She frowned at her suitcase. "I'm not so sure things are going anywhere."

"Are you crazy? Gold is like a walking candy heart that says 'Be mine.' If he'd given you a dozen roses and a box of chocolates and read a love letter in front of the entire town, would that have convinced you?"

"Well…"

"He looked like he wanted to devour his burger and fries off your naked body." Ruby snickered. "Granny could have pulled him back into the kitchen and cooked the food with the heat in his eyes. Things are most definitely going somewhere."

Belle rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. You've made your point. But now I really have to go. I'm so late! Call you from New York?"

"Yeah about that." Ruby cut her eyes toward the street where Belle's ride was waiting.

"What?"

"Your Uber's gone."

xoxo

It was a large room by New York City standards, with floor-to-ceiling windows featuring an electric view of Times Square. On this clear night, skyscrapers shone brilliantly beneath the moon. There was the trademark red Coca-Cola sign, a Budweiser ad, billboards reporting Phantom of the Opera's return to the stage and the introduction of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to Broadway. From forty floors into the air, she could hear car horns blaring and the exclamations of tourists gawking at the city lights in the crowded streets.

And water.

Belle frowned and cocked her head toward the bathroom door. Was the shower running? Maybe the housekeeping staff hadn't quite finished cleaning yet. On occasion she'd checked into a hotel when they'd released a room before it was completely ready, but check-in time had long since come and gone.

"Hello?" she called half-heartedly, at last dropping the suitcase she'd been carrying around for the past ten hours. But there was no answer.

Belle tossed her jacket on the bed, then kicked off her heels and shoved them under the desk. New York might be the City that Never Sleeps, but she was exhausted from the delayed flights and unexpected layovers. Thank God for Leroy driving her to the airport at the last minute to catch her flight, but all the rushing around had been in vain. The plane had languished on the tarmac for hours before finally taking off. Who ever heard of flying to Chicago from Boston in order to get to New York, anyway? She'd hoped to do a little sightseeing before the conference started, but taking on the Big Apple would have to wait until tomorrow. Right now she wanted nothing more than a hot shower, room service, and sleep.

An enormous, cushy bed dressed in white linens dominated the center of the room. She flopped down on the soft mattress. Her tired eyes caught a small suitcase in the corner, a pair of black wingtips beside it. She blinked. _That was weird._ Curiosity ignited, she padded to the closet and flung open the door. A suit hung on a hanger alongside an expensive-looking garment bag.

But this was _her_ room. She glanced at the keycard and hurried back to the door. Room 4032. It was a match, but something was out of place. Either someone had left their things in the room, or there had been a terrible mistake.

Belle reached for the telephone on the nightstand. She would call the front desk and straighten everything out.

The bathroom door creaked open, bare feet shuffling across the carpet.

"Belle."

She dropped the receiver.

Gold was walked toward her. He was wrapped in a white towel from the waist down, his chest bare and glistening with beads of water. Belle's mouth went dry and she tried to form words, but no sound came out.

He rubbed his wet hair with a hand towel, his lips curling upward at the corner in a lopsided smirk. "Did I miss an appointment?"

###


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Summary: Belle and Gold realize they've been assigned to the same hotel room. Oh no. What now? ;)  
A/N: We're getting to the bed-sharing, I promise.

 _Did I miss an appointment?_

Had he actually said those words? Perhaps an alien had swooped in and taken temporary possession of his brain. Gold smoothed damp strands of hair over his ears to cover their burning tips. He didn't want Belle to see him blush, not after the entrance he made.

There had already been more than enough embarrassment for one evening.

After hearing the sound of movement in the room, he swaggered out of the bathroom like some sort of overconfident beast, droplets of water still dotting his body, wearing only a thin bath towel.

All it took was one glimpse of the pale, pinched look on Belle's face to send him scurrying back to the bathroom to don one of the plush white robes the hotel had provided. The color drained from her cheeks and her eyes dropped to the carpet, her lips pursed into a tight little line.

It was an expression no man should have to see on the face of the woman he'd fallen in love with.

 _"You're in New York," he said softly._

 _"Librarians conference," she confirmed, still staring at the floor. "You?"_

 _"Same. But Pawnbrokers Association."_

 _"Oh."_

Following that brief, stilted conversation, he returned to the bathroom yet again to put his pajamas on beneath the robe.

He eyed himself under the garish flourescent lights of the hotel bathroom and cringed. He looked older and pastier than usual, and the wet strings of hair hanging around his face reminding him of a drowned rat. The idea of facing Belle again made his palms sweat, but there was nothing to be done except go back out there and find a solution to their problem. The last thing he wanted was for Belle to think he was angry with her. Who knew they would both be in New York at the same hotel, each for a work event? It was an outcome no one could have predicted, like the spike in reality television shows, or the popularity of men wearing skin-tight trousers without socks.

Earlier this afternoon at the diner, Belle had murmured something about a suitcase and a trip, but he didn't have the time or the presence of mind to ask her where she was going, or to volunteer his own plans to attend the Annual Pawnbrokers Conference over the next three days.

He creeped out of the bathroom and peered around the corner.

Belle was seated on the loveseat facing the window, her back ramrod straight as she stared out at Times Square. The lights from the skyscrapers wreathed her curls in an ethereal glow, and though her back was turned, he could feel her twisting her fingers together in her lap. The silence was tense and uncomfortable.

It was hard to believe that hours ago, she had been attacking his hamburger and fries with a voracious appetite, and he had almost kissed the blob of ketchup off her adorable face in front of one hundred pairs of curious eyes.

Even Ms. Lucas had been kind to him in the diner, smiling when he paid his bill and thanking him for coming in. Belle's reaction to seeing him was another matter entirely. She was fidgety, edgy, and refused to meet his eyes. Anxiety twisted his gut.

He was nothing much to look at, he knew. He fingered the lapel of his robe and glanced longingly toward his bag of suits hanging in the closet. Imported Italian silk always made him feel more attractive.

He looked far better in a suit than he did out of one, a truth his father had pounded this truth into him from a young age. "Clothes make the man, Branny," Malcolm Gold used to say. "Without fine clothes, no one will respect you."

Gold had inherited his father's taste for the finer things, but unlike his father, he funded his expensive habits himself.

He tightened the sash on the robe tighter with a grim smile.

Typical of his lousy track record with with relationships. Well, then. He would take his frustrations out on the hotel staff.

With his mouth twisted into a snarl, he dialed the phone and barked orders at the poor unfortunate soul who answered. "Manager. Now." Someone would be held accountable for this mix-up with the rooms, of that he was certain.

After ten minutes of growling and making threats, he was getting nowhere.

 _"As I told you before, sir, the system shows Mrs. Gold cancelled her room yesterday," the manager explained in a bored tone. "Your wife is registered to your room in our system and that's why we followed standard check-in procedures and gave her a key. I'm sorry, sir, we don't have another room for your wife."_

 _"Perhaps the system is wrong," Gold said, grinding his teeth._

 _"The system is never wrong, sir." The manager sounded appalled by the suggestion. "Mrs. Gold's room was cancelled."_

 _"You mean Miss French's room." Gold's head was beginning to pound. "Did Miss French cancel the room or did Mrs. Gold?"_

 _"What would please you, sir?"_

 _"None of this pleases me, damn you!" He reached for his cane and squeezed the handle, pretending it was the throat of the halfwit on the other end of the line._

 _"Profound apologies, sir," the bored voice replied._

 _"There are over 1800 rooms in this hotel," he snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Surely there's another room available. A suite?"_

 _"No, sir."_

 _"The honeymoon suite! Yes, Miss French can move her things in there and I'll…"_

 _"I'm sorry, sir." The manager cut him off. "We don't have another room for your wife here. Perhaps we can ease you with some complimentary champagne? A wheel of brie?"_

 _There was that word again—wife. "I don't want apologies or cheese. Bloody hell, I want results."_

 _"Yes, sir, but with the number of conferences being hosted here, the hotel is full. We have no other rooms available for Mrs. Gold."_

 _Gold pinched the bridge of his nose again. He didn't want to hear another syllable about the room across town or hear them utter the name Mrs. Gold again. He wanted a room across the hall or next door for Miss French, plain and simple._

 _"There is no Mrs. …" Belle's head came up sharply, and Gold dropped his voice to a dangerously low tone. "You had better make this stay worth our while, or I'll see to it that neither the Art Libraries Society nor the Pawnbrokers Association ever do business with this establishment again."_

 _There was a lengthy pause, the rapid tapping of keys, and frantic whispers._

 _"What can I for you and your wife, sir?" The same manager was back on the line, talking as though they hadn't been talking in circles for the past twenty minutes._

 _"I have no wife! There is no Mrs. Gold!" He snarled an obscenity, then slammed the receiver back in the cradle._

xoxo

Through her hazy vision and the buzzing in her ears, Belle could vaguely hear the sound of Gold's voice ranting in the background.

Is this what it felt like to go into shock?

This afternoon Belle had taken his food, and moments ago she had tried to steal his hotel room. It wasn't the best way to turn the man she was quasi-dating into her boyfriend.

At least he wasn't angry with her. Yet.

He'd smiled and greeted her like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be snooping around his room. He padded out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel from the waist down, his lean chest still wet from the shower and his hair hanging in damp waves around his shoulders. She'd wanted to comb her finger through the those silky brown strands and never stop. Even from six feet away he smelled incredible, like citrus and heather.

Seeing him practically naked with a huge, comfortable bed as a backdrop was one of her wildest fantasies come to life. Her mouth went dry, her knees weak, and she sank into the couch while her brain shut down. By the time she collected herself, he was on the telephone growling in a way that shouldn't be sexy, and who was he yelling at, anyway? Belle shook her head, her thoughts scattered like dry leaves in an autumn breeze.

Should she leave? Head downstairs to the reception desk herself to straighten out this mess? She looked toward the door, not certain she could walk out of the room without falling over. Thinking better of making an idiot of herself three times in one day, she fumbled through her handbag in search of her phone. Thank God she'd made up with Ruby. Leroy was a darling, but she couldn't explain any of this to him. But Ruby? She would know what to do.

 _Belle: You there?_

 _Ruby: Halfway through my third apple pie martini. $5 tonight at the Rabbit Hole. You in NYC yet?_

 _Belle: I'm dying. Not literally, but yeah. Gold and I are at the same hotel in the city. In the same room._

 _Ruby: Wow!_

 _Belle: So what do I do?_

 _Ruby: I'll skip over the obvious and go straight to the advice: Jump him._

 _Belle: ?!_

 _Ruby: I mean it. Go for it. You want him. He wants you. This is like a repeat of Granny's at lunchtime, only you're alone now so it won't shock anyone when you start tearing each other's clothes off and throwing them at the windows._

 _Belle: He was naked when I got here._

 _Ruby: Even better._

 _Belle waited, seeing the little bubbles indicating Ruby was still typing._

 _Ruby: For you. Not for me._

 _Belle: Haha. Funny. Yesterday you hated him. Now you want me to go to bed with him. There's no halfway with you, is there?_

 _Ruby: Nope. What's the point of dancing around the obvious? The two of you are perfect together. Now go make out and other stuff. I want details later._

"I have no wife! There is no Mrs. Gold!"

Belle dropped her phone to the carpet with a thud at the sound of Gold's bellow, then scrambled to drop it back in her bag. Ruby had been no help anyway. She stood up and smoothed her clammy hands down the front of her skirt. "What happened?" she asked.

"I'm not sure." Gold combed through his hair with his fingers. It was almost dry now, tousled in soft waves.

Belle stared at him in disbelief, waiting for more. The tick in his jaw seemed to speak to her, revealing that he knew more than he was letting on.

"You were on the phone for quite a while." Laughter burst out of her in a nervous squeak. "Things like this don't just happen. This is a massive hotel in the middle of Times Square."

"Indeed." He sat on the edge of the bed. "Maybe that's precisely how it happened and why. According to the twit of a manager I spoke to, you cancelled your reservation yesterday."

"What?"

"You're now registered to my room, under my reservation."

"What?"

"You already said that." He rubbed his fingers together, his smile patient. "Some women work under professional names and are married under a different name. Clearly they assumed…"

"They can do that?" She wrung her hands.

"Apparently." He laced his fingers together behind his head and sighed, the motion parting his robe about the waist to reveal a v-shaped patch of skin. The top three buttons of his pajamas were undone. Her fingers itched to touch his lean, golden muscles, to discover if they were as soft as they looked.

Keep your hands to yourself, Belle. He didn't want her here; she was in the way. His harsh words on the telephone told her as much. It wasn't like she expected him to marry her tomorrow, or ever, but they were sort of dating, weren't they? At the very least they were friends. His anger at the hotel's assumption that they were married stung like a slap.

"Are you done in the bathroom?" she asked in a small voice.

"I am." He lifted an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to go in there and die now."

"Belle, please. Don't—"

"You're right; I should leave," she amended in rush before she had to listen to him ask her to go. "Did they say...is there another room I can move to?"

"There is." He winced. "Downtown at a partner hotel. It's in Tribeca."

"Fine." Relieved she had a place to go, yet crushed he didn't want her to stay, she retrieved her shoes from under the desk, then gathered her suitcase and shuffled toward the door.

"Belle, stop. It's late."

She paused halfway to the door, but didn't turn around. "All the more reason for me to be on my way."

At her back, she felt the warm weight of his hands on her shoulders.

"Please, let's think this through," he said, squeezing her shoulders slightly. His breath tickled the back of her neck. She stiffened, bothered by the effect of his hands on her body, and he stepped away. "We're both here in a professional capacity and there's no reason we can't share the room."

She didn't reply and he furrowed his brow. "You're not here for a conference?"

"No, I am."

"Then you need to stay. You can't be running to and from downtown to midtown over and over for what, two days?"

She shrugged. "Three, actually, but—"

A knock at the door cut her short. Gold moved around her to answer it, and a young man with nondescript features wheeled a cart into the room. Gold tipped him with a crisp $20 bill and sent him away.

"I'm sorry for the interruption. You were saying?" Gold whisked the cover off a platter of cheeses, crackers and fruit. A bottle of champagne was nestled on ice inside a sterling silver bucket. Belle's stomach rumbled.

"Nothing." She extended the handle on her suitcase and started wheeling it toward the door again. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I'll let you get back to your room service."

"It's not for me, my dear. It's for you." Smiling, he skimmed a stiff sheet of cream stationery, then handed it to her. It was a note from the evening manager addressed to Mrs. French-Gold, expressing the entire management team's deepest apologies for the inconvenience.

"Groveling, as well they should." Gold's nod was sharp. "Mrs. French-Gold indeed. I told them we are furious at this misunderstanding and have considered never working with this hotel again."

Her mouth formed an 'O' of surprise, but no sound came out. She wondered if he was more angry about being forced into this situation or at being forced to claim her as his wife. Her shoes began to pinch her toes.

"At least stay and have a drink with me," he continued, grabbing the handle of her suitcase before she could protest. He placed it in the far corner of the room and threw her a lopsided grin, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Then, if you really want to go, I'll call a taxi and escort you to the other hotel myself."

She glanced at the elegant cart laden with wedges of brie and roquefort, nuts, dried apricots, grapes and apples. It did look delicious and she was hungry. There was no way Mayor Mills would approve an extravagance like this on her own hotel bill, and she couldn't afford decadent five-star room service on a small-town librarian's salary. "You would do that for me?" she asked, unable to keep the irony from her tone.

"Of course I would, Belle." Hurt flashed on his face.

Her confusion mounted when the inviting gleam in his warm brown eyes turned flat and dull, making her regret her words. He said he wanted her to stay, and despite his rough, angry tone on the telephone, she wanted to be here with him. She bit her lip, considering. As he said, she didn't have to spend the whole night. How much harm could one drink do?

"I see you've come to a decision. Good." The endearing, lopsided smile that tied her stomach into knots was back. He handed her a champagne flute filled with a bubbling, rose-colored liquid, his warm fingertips brushing hers. "Let's think of this evening's events in pleasant terms...more of a surprise date?"

She looked down at her feet in surprise to find she'd already kicked off her pumps.

"All right," she said, raising the cool crystal to her lips. "I'll stay."

xoxo

Convincing Belle to stay had been harder than he expected, but after her first glass of champagne she seemed to forget all about going to the other hotel. Now she was seated in the middle of the huge bed, legs tucked under her, popping chunks of blue cheese into her mouth and chasing them with gulps of champagne.

A bit of cheese caught on her lip and she frowned, darting after it with the tip of her tongue. Gold settled against the leather desk chair and enjoyed the view. It was better for them both if he kept his distance. Since she'd arrived, he hadn't been able to stop imagining laying her out on the bed. He would peel away her clothes to reveal her sheer black stockings and white lace panties, then kiss his way up and down her body, bringing her pleasure until she begged him to stop.

He was painfully hard from playing his fantasy reel, but common sense prevailed. It was close to midnight and they both had early mornings. He dragged himself toward the bed and lifted one of the pillows she wasn't leaning against. "I'll take the couch."

"No!" Her eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, look at the time! You don't want me here all night."

Gold tamped down a groan of frustration. _She had no idea._ But hadn't he practically tripped over himself begging her to stay? "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You did." She pouted, her sweet mouth forming a delicate moue he always found annoying on other women, but on Belle...good God, Belle.

"I may be clumsy and awkward and kinda tipsy but I'm not deaf." She rose up on her knees and jabbed her finger at his chest. "I heard what you said on the phone. When they thought I was your...we were married...you acted like you'd been accused of murder."

"Belle, no." He whisked away her empty glass and took her hands. "You have it all wrong. This is just a huge misunderstanding."

"So you've said." She hiccupped. "I hope you realize I didn't do this on purpose. Set you up to be in the same room with me."

"I know that, sweetheart," he soothed, rubbing her palms with his thumbs.

"And you're not the one who completely mortified yourself in front of everyone in Storybrooke and Manhattan." She chewed her lower lip, deepening the color of the flesh to ruby. "I may not have had sex in three years, but I wouldn't trap you into spending the night with me." Still kneeling on the bed, she removed her hands from his and put them on her hips. "I have self-respect."

"Oh, come now, Mrs. Gold," he teased. "It's not as dramatic as all that, is it?"

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "You really know how to make a girl feel better, don't you?"

"Well, interpersonal relationships are my speciality." He started to laugh, but the sound died on his tongue. "But what if I want to?"

"Wanna what?" She pinned him to the spot with those inquisitive blue eyes.

Gold hesitated; he could change the subject. They were both tipsy enough for him to laugh it off, but the words were out there and he didn't want to take them back. The bottle of champagne they'd consumed together had loosened his inhibitions and he was tired. Tired of holding out, guarding his heart, pretending he didn't care.

Since he first started spying on her during the movie nights three months ago, all he wanted was to be with Belle French. Now she was here in his hotel room. He would be a complete fool to send her away.

"Spend the night here." He cleared his throat. "With you."

She smoothed her hand across the comforter, then met his gaze. "You mean in the same bed?"

"Yes," he said, surprised by the huskiness in his voice. "I don't mind if we sleep in the same bed. Do you?"

###


	8. Chapter 8

MMitC Part 8  
Summary: Belle and Gold work through the awkwardness of sharing a hotel room and a bed.  
A/N: It's what you guys have been waiting for! After a lot of inner dialogue between me and the characters, I decided to include smut in this fic.

" _Yes," he said, surprised by the huskiness in his voice. "I don't mind if we sleep in the same bed. Do you?"_

Silence followed in the wake of his suggestion. Never before had a few seconds seemed to stretch out into eternity. Belle dropped the pillow she was hugging to her chest, took the champagne glass out of his trembling fingers, and drained the dregs.

It was just as well that she finished his. Drinking champagne always led to disaster for him. He could drink half a bottle of Scotch without batting an eye, but champagne made him babble like an idiot. Gold blamed the bubbles.

"Bad idea," he amended, biting down on the tip of his tongue. "I'm sorry."

Still she said nothing, only sat on the bed staring at him with those unfathomable blue eyes.

"I could go," he continued, rambling when she didn't respond. "To the other hotel."

"What? No." She lifted her chin. "Impossible."

"It's really quite easy." He gave her a strained smile. "You stay here and I take a cab across town."

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Forget it, Gold. I won't stay if you don't, so then we'll _both_ be out of a room. You'll have to take me with you to the other hotel, so we'll be sharing the room in any case. You're stuck with me."

One of them was stuck all right, and he was positive it wasn't him. But he was a selfish bastard, and if she wasn't opposed to sharing a bed, he wasn't going to continue arguing. "You're sure you don't mind?"

"Why would I mind?" she asked softly. "We're dating, aren't we?"

"Well, yes." He brightened a bit. Belle's easy acceptance made him feel less like a dirty old lecher and more like a gentleman. It was a unique emotion for a man most people regarded as the town scourge. "Yes, I suppose we are."

They took turns in the bathroom, making final preparations for bed. Soon Belle emerged in a short, navy satin nightgown trimmed in cream lace, and the way the nightie skimmed her curves left enough to the imagination to make him ache with want.

"We match," she joked, gesturing at his own navy blue nightwear.

"Aha," he muttered, trying to smile, but her beauty made it difficult to breath. Auburn waves hung loose around her shoulders, and the delicate scent of crushed rose petals permeated the air. His hands tightened the sash on his robe, then he turned down the sheets and fluffed the pillows. "I usually sleep on the right side, but I can move. What do you prefer?"

She nodded. "The left is where I sleep anyway."

"Great."

"Great," she echoed.

He snatched the remote control from the bedside table. "Should we watch some television? Perhaps a movie?"

The knowing smile she gave him made him blush. "A few minutes ago you said it was late," she said.

"I did. I mean, it is." Those eyes again. Missing nothing, they were intent on his every move, making him flustered. Desperate for something to do with his hands, he stood beside the bed and flipped through the channels, his focus intent on the screen. _Pyscho, Fatal Attraction, Fairytale Villians and the Damsels Who Loved Them._ At last he landed on something normal.

" _When Harry Met Sally._ Does that sound good?" His voice sounded high-pitched and unnatural.

She shrugged and stretched her legs in front of her on the bed and flexed her toes. For a petite woman, her legs seemed to go on forever, trim calves melting into muscled yet slender thighs. Dancer's legs, he surmised. She stretched her arms, hiking the hem of her short nightgown even higher. "Sure."

Onscreen, Sally was lamenting the engagement of her ex-boyfriend and that dolt Harry was taking her into his arms. Gold knew what happened next: they would make love and Harry would leave in the middle of the night like the moron he was. He suddenly recalled the movie was a favorite of Milah's, the memory making his throat tight.

He turned off the television, then dropped the remote like it was a bomb. "Would you like another pillow?" he asked, rushing to the closet. He scanned the top shelf and reported, "There are feather pillows and foam."

"I'm good."

From there, he crossed the room to the window where the thermostat was and squinted at the screen. "Is the temperature in the room suitable? I can adjust it."

"Everything is perfect." She patted the empty side of the bed with a decadent smile and winked. "Gold?"

"Yes?" Her tongue darted out to moisten her full lower lip and his body responded with enthusiasm. He stifled a groan, grateful for the thick white robe he wore.

"Are you nervous?"

Was that amusement he detected in her tone? He flushed and turned back to the window, drawing the floor-to-ceiling drapes closed until only a sliver of the city lights filtered into the room. "What makes you think so?"

"You won't look at me, and you're chasing around this place like you're prepping for a fire drill."

"I'm not nervous," he said. And he wasn't. He was absolutely terrified.

"Good. Because I don't bite—much." She giggled, her eyes dancing with mirth in the low light. "Now come to bed."

Face suffused with heat, he crept toward the bed again and crawled on top of the mattress, careful to stay near the edge. He switched on the reading light and settled on his back on top of the counterpane, drawing a blanket he'd retrieved from the closet over his legs. He lay on his back and looked at the ceiling, picking at a stray thread on his robe, until he felt the weight of her stare. He turned his head toward her with a sigh.

"I'm sleeping on top of the covers," he explained to her raised eyebrow.

The pallor of her face when she saw him earlier swam to the surface of his consciousness, but even forcing himself to think about that uncomfortable moment did nothing to dampen his arousal. They had sat close to each other before, but there was a difference between snuggling on his couch in front of his son and Emma and sharing a bed with a woman he hadn't even worked up the courage to kiss. "I want you to be as comfortable as possible," he added.

"If you want me to be comfortable, get under the sheets and come closer," she ordered. "It's bloody cold in here." She leaned across him and switched off the reading light on his side of the bed. The motion caused her breasts to brush against his chest, and he thought his lungs might burst.

"I thought you said the temperature was fine," he sputtered, baffled when she scooted into the middle of the bed and snuggled against his side.

He felt her shrug in the dark. "I lied."

One of her hands crept into the opening in his pajamas and soft, cool fingertips stroked his chest, making him shiver with desire. If she came any closer, she was going to feel more of him than she was prepared for.

"No room on your side of the bed?" he asked, stiffening when she shifted to curl closer.

"The bed's too big," she murmured against his shoulder. "I sleep in a full at home."

"Practically a matchstick," he drawled, his heart picking up speed when she turned into his neck to plant a brief kiss against his pulse. "We should sleep," he said, starting to panic. He was becoming more aroused by the moment, and it required all his restraint to turn away from her and face toward the wall.

The arm she wrapped around his waist stopped him from rolling over, and she buried her face into the crevice where his neck and shoulder met. ""Mmm your skin is so smooth," she purred, and the vibration of her voice against his body made him shiver again. "But too many layers. I liked what you were wearing when I got here."

She couldn't mean?

"The t-towel?" he stuttered. He let his arm come up and curve around her back. "Really?" Stunned was a mild word for his response to this declaration. "I assumed from your reaction…I thought I terrified you."

"Assumptions are dangerous," she cautioned, and the hand stroking his chest drifted lower to caress his ribs, then his stomach. "Besides, don't you ever get tired of thinking?"

"Regularly," he murmured in agreement.

"Good." She leaned over and pressed her lips to his.

The first taste of her made his head spin. He opened to her, the fruity remnants of champagne and the salty tang of cheese still lingering on her tongue. She was intoxicating, and he moaned into the kiss. Until the unwelcome, unbidden thought that he was taking advantage of her flung cold water on his desire.

He tore his mouth from hers and turned his head. "Belle. Wait."

xoxo

"What is it?" Belle whispered against his lips. She couldn't see him clearly in the dark, but she could feel him closing down, trying to keep her at a distance.

"You don't want this," he said, sounding resigned. "Not with me. We've both had a couple of drinks..."

"So you think I'm too drunk to know what I'm doing?" Belle smiled into the dark; the unmistakable heat of his arousal bobbed against her thigh. There was no doubt in her mind that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Something was holding him back, but time she wasn't going to let him pull away.

"Agreeing to share a bed with me doesn't obligate you to sex with me," he said. "Or anything else."

She squeaked. "You think I'm coming on to you out of misplaced obligation?"

There was a short silence. "That sounds bad, doesn't it?" he asked. "I'm sorry."

"If this is about the way I behaved earlier, I'm the one who's sorry," she said. "I kind of shut down on you, didn't I?"

Another brief silence. "Kind of," he said at last.

"When I realized I barged into your room, I was a little surprised," she confessed.

"Shocked is more like it. From the look on your face, you wanted to get as far away from me as possible. You were white as the bed sheets." His laugh sounded sad. "Not that I blame you. I understand completely."

"No, I don't think you do." Her eyes filled with tears, her heart hurting over the wariness in his voice. She framed his face with her hands, running her thumbs along his jawline. Even in the dark, she could see his eyes glinting with doubt. "I was overwhelmed because I wanted you."

"What?" he asked. "Why?"

"You really have no idea, do you?" She threaded her hands through his silky hair, running her fingers from scalp to tip in long, steady strokes. "How attractive you are? How desirable?"

He made a strangled noise.

"I confess I'm not the most astute when it comes to reading the people I care about," he said. She felt him shrug. "I wasn't a good husband to my ex-wife, Milah, a fact she reminded me of every day until she left me for another man. Someone taller. Younger. Who looks good in a towel."

"I'm so sorry," Belle said.

"For all ten years of our marriage, I couldn't do anything to satisfy her. My hair was the wrong length, my clothes were the wrong style, my job wasn't good enough. And the bloke she dumped me for? The manager of a concessions stand at the movie theatre round the corner."

"Blind _and_ stupid." Belle fumed, furious with the woman responsible for so much of Gold's self-doubt. But alongside the anger was an equal amount of triumph. She was sorry for his pain, but she was also grateful. Because Milah had thrown this remarkable man away, Belle had a chance at winning him for herself. She chastised herself for the selfish thought. This was about Gold.

"But Bae...he was my saving grace," Gold continued. "The one thing I did right."

Belle kept moving her fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him with her touch as well as her words. "You've done _a lot_ of things right. Neal knows it, and so do I. Anyone would be lucky to have you for a husband, Branan."

It was the first time she'd used his given name, Belle realized. It had just slipped out, and she hadn't asked permission. "Is it okay if I call you Branan? I've only heard you called Gold or Papa, but since we're sharing a bed…" She trailed off with a nervous laugh.

"Oh, I have many other names," he said, sarcasm lacing his words. "Yes, there's bastard, lowlife, sociopath, prince of darkness."

"The people who call you those names don't know you. You're none of those things." She shook her head hard. "Not to me, never to me. So can I?"

"Can you what?" he slurred.

"Can I call you Branan?" She poked his ribcage and giggled at the thickness in his voice. "Am I keeping you awake?"

"Champagne," he answered drowsily. "Makes me tired. You can call me anything you want, sweetheart."

 _Sweetheart._ Her heart tripped over the endearment, and she wondered how the word might sound passing his lips while in the throes of passion. The thought made the place between her thighs ache. She pushed one of her legs between his until she was sprawled half on top of him, crushing her breasts against his chest. "I think I'd like to call you mine," she said huskily.

There. It was as direct an invitation she could issue without flat-out asking him for sex. She held her breath and waited.

"Mmmmm," he murmured, tightening his arms around her. A soft snore tickled her ear, then another, his breathing growing deep and even.

So much for her seduction plans. Gold was fast asleep.

xoxo

Gold awoke in the middle of the night with a groan and blinked into the darkness, the light scent of crushed rose petals tickling his nose. He stared at the shadows on the wall, trying to place when he'd drifted off.

 _Phenomenal_.

He'd fallen asleep while Belle was still talking! Their conversation about his ex-wife and his son had cooled his arousal, and her hands in his hair, combined with the champagne, had a hypnotic effect and he fell asleep.

Now his body was awake. Completely awake.

He was lying on his side in the center of the bed, his arms full of Belle. She was flush against him, her back snuggled against his front, a length of her hair wrapped around his forearm. He was thick and hard, and pressed against her curves.

She stretched in her sleep and wriggled her bottom, the action tilting her hips back and brushing him where he ached. Gold gritted his teeth and started unwinding her hair from his arm, keeping his movements slow and careful so he wouldn't wake her. He was loath to leave her embrace, but it would be far less embarrassing for them both if he slid out of bed and spent the remainder of the night on the couch.

With small, careful movements, he started rolling toward the edge, trying not to make the mattress dip and shake.

Belle murmured wordlessly, turning in his arms to close the space between them. She melted against him with another soft sigh. "Hey," she whispered.

He froze. So much for stealth. "You're awake."

"You are, too," she said, nudging his arousal with her thigh for emphasis.

Gold fell out of bed, landing on the floor with a thud.

The outline of Belle's face appeared over the edge of the bed as he looked up at the ceiling, wondering what the people in the room below were thinking.

"Oh my gosh! Gold? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?"

"Nothing broken," he said from the floor, feeling dazed and stupid. "I guess this time you surprised me."

Giggling, she held out a hand and helped him to his feet, then grabbed the lapels of his robe and pulled him forward until his legs brushed the edge of the mattress. She ran her hands all over his arms and chest and back, making his shudder.

"Ah, what-what are you doing?" he asked.

She cupped his arse and squeezed. "Checking for injuries," she said in a sultry tone.

"Is that an invitation?" he asked teasingly, leaning into her arms, and he could have bit his tongue for making yet another stupid, off-handed comment.

"Most definitely." She nuzzled his neck and he bit back a groan; she was warm and soft and smelled delicious. "Come back to bed."

His body surged to life again and he climbed on the mattress, not resisting when she pushed him onto his back. Only her silhouette was visible in the dark, but he could feel every inch of her stretching across him, her curves settling into his hollows. The heat of her core pressed against him and he moaned.

Small hands smoothed down his chest, and her touch burned through his nightshirt, the sensation shooting straight to his pounding heart. He reached for her face, his thumb sweeping from temple to jaw. She leaned into his touch and kissed his cheek, then grazed his earlobe with her teeth, a light, playful nip.

"I want you. Right here, right now." Her whisper in his ear was a passionate hiss, and then she placed his hand against the curve of her breast. His palm closed around the soft mound as if on autopilot, testing its fullness. She made a tiny sound in the back of her throat, and all his blood rushed southward toward his groin, leaving him dizzy with arousal. He couldn't resist brushing a thumb across her nipple through the silk of her nightgown, and her low moan of approval made him tremble.

He quirked an eyebrow in the dark. "Is that a line from a movie, Miss French?"

"Hmmm, I don't know." She seemed to pretend to consider. "Does that improve or ruin my chances of getting you to make love to me?"

"Belle?" He managed to reply, his voice hoarse. Were they really going to do what he _thought_ they were going to do?

"Mmmmm." Her hands drifted lower to the sash on his robe and she untied the knot and parted the thick material. She roamed over his body, engulfing him in flames everywhere she touched. "You feel so good."

The words went straight to his cock, making him twitch, while his head spun with all the reasons sex with Belle French was a bad idea. She was too beautiful for him, and too young. He would hurt her, he would crush her sweet spirit with his sour disposition. He would ruin her life, and she would hate him...

Her mouth sought his, and she nipped at his lower lip with her teeth, her tongue licking along the seam of his lips, waiting for his decision.

To hell with it.

For months he had wanted her, longed to be close to her, and consequences be damned. Fate had conspired to bring them together, and for once all he had to do was step out of his own way.

He _crushed_ her against him, kissing her back with abandon, sucking on her hot little tongue. His desperate fingers scrambled for the thin straps of her negligee and snapped them with a pinch. Goosebumps broke out on her flesh, and she whimpered as he dragged his hands up and down her arms from shoulders to wrists.

Still bearing him down on the bed with her slight weight, she slid his arms out of the robe and attacked the buttons on his pajama shirt, her nails teasing his nipples with light pinches and scratches. He felt hot, his skin prickling everywhere her hands went. He growled and sat up, bringing her with him. He raised her arms up over her head and lowered the ruined nightgown, exposing her small, pert breasts as the garment slither to the floor in a whisper of silk.

Belle helped him shrug out of his nightshirt and he circled her waist loosely, his thumbs dipping into her navel. She was soft and smooth, and each sigh and whimper she made at his touch caused him to throb. This time, he was the one to ease her back against the pillows and stretch out beside her, his mouth searching hers like he was starving. She tasted like honey and sunlight, and he never wanted to stop kissing her.

But her nipples scalded his bare chest, demanding attention, and he dragged his mouth away from hers to kiss his way down to her breasts.

"Suck me," she whispered, arching her back off the bed. The sound she made the first time his mouth closed around her nipple would be committed to memory. She keened and tugged on his hair, pulling it at the roots. Encouraged by her responses, he pinched and rolled its twin before switching sides to bathe the other breast with his tongue.

Milah used to lie there—cold as a stone with her arms at her sides—and ask him to hurry along, but Belle was so genuine and guileless in her responses, begging for his every touch. He had never felt so wanted, so capable. So cared for.

While he suckled, her hands roamed through his hair and over his body until she took him in hand, stroking him through his sleep pants, circling his shaft at the base. "You're killing me, sweetheart."

"Say it again," she pled, and the neediness in her voice made him buck into her hand with a choked cry.

"Sweetheart," he whispered through gritted teeth. He closed his fingers around her wrist and dragged her away from his arousal, settling her hand against his shoulder. He traced her ribs, the delicate lines of her hip bones, then circled lower to rub her mound with his palm. He teased the creases of her thighs with his fingertips until she squirmed. She clawed at him with her nails, her fingers digging into his flesh.

"Branan," she whined, "I need..."

His heart swelled. "Yes, sweetheart. Tell me."

"Ah," she moaned. "I don't know—ah…"

Her panties were damp and clinging to her body, and he moved the gusset aside so he could touch all of her. He dipped a finger into her core, finding her hot and slick. Hooking a finger into the waistband, he dragged her underwear down her body, then parted her folds. She was wet and tight and swollen, and the smell of roses and sugar made his mouth water.

xoxo

"You're so wet," he whispered against her mouth.

"Yes, yes. That's what you do to me." Belle was nearly mindless in her need, desperate for him to continue.

His hands and mouth were becoming firmer, more confident, exploiting every sensation. Pressure was building deep in her core and swirling through her belly, her senses of smell and touch heightened in the dark. Sweat trickled down her back, a cool hiss against her feverish skin, and she could smell the clean brightness of his heather soap along with an earthiness belonging to Gold alone.

Everything felt hazy and hot in this languid space between wakefulness and sleep. She wanted to pinch herself, but she didn't dare, not with his mouth burning her skin and his hands _everywhere_. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up.

Gold's arousal pressed against her belly, and sparks of desire coursed through her body. Another finger entered her, and her walls began to clench. Her hips jerked, seeking more, deeper, harder. His thumb found her nub, and she locked her arms around his neck and held on. Her release burst upon her and she cried out, riding his hand until she was sweaty and spent.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his warm, firm lips raining soft kisses across her cheeks, nose, and temples.

"Need you in me," she said, reaching for the drawstring on his sleep pants with singular purpose.

Together they managed to draw his pajama pants and underwear over his hips and down his legs. Finally he was naked, his weight soothing and perfect when he moved on top of her. Working a hand between them, she stroked his hard length, and he hissed.

"Oh, Belle." Panting, he pressed his forehead against hers, both of them slick with perspiration. "It's been a long time for me. Years."

"Me too," she admitted, pushing away memories of her bland lovemaking sessions with her ex-boyfriend, Will. She pushed a damp strand of hair off Gold's forehead and kissed his closed eyelids. Before doubts could crowd in and choke the moment, she wrapped her hand around him and guided him inside her.

He felt incredible and she cradled him close, drawing him deeper. He set up a maddeningly slow pace, pushing in and out of her in long, slow strokes. He pulled out almost to the tip, and she sobbed until he returned, filling her again and again with his thick heat. Curses and endearing nonsense passed his lips, his brogue rumbling in her ear, and she spiraled upward, the pleasure building once more.

His arms were shaking with the effort of holding himself back, and Belle loved knowing she was capable of cracking his careful facade; of making him lose control. She wanted nothing more than to watch him shatter.

"Come for me," she urged, wrapping her legs around him.

"Won't-can't last when you talk like that," he rasped, quickening his pace.

"Then don't." She clutching his arse and twisted her hips in circles, trying to push him over edge.

"Minx. Two can play at this game." He grunted and moved his hand between their bodies, alternating between rubbing and flicking her clit. Stars burst behind her eyelids and she screamed as they flooded each other, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside her with a long, low moan.

She held him close, stroking his back and buttocks until he twitched and pulled out of her, rolling to the side. He brought her with him, hugging her to his chest, and they lay there panting while their bodies cooled.

"So _that's_ what you were hiding behind that towel," she said. "No wonder you didn't want me to see."

"I only wear a towel for very special people." They both laughed and he kissed her nose. Sated and exhausted, she drifted back to sleep with a smile.

###


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary** : The morning after Belle and Gold share a bed and things happen, Belle wakes up believing Gold has left.  
 **A/N** : A bunch of fluffy morning-after goodness with bonus smut for good measure. This was supposed to be the last chapter, but I'm a lying liar who lies. One more after this.

Belle stretched her sated limbs with a luxurious smile. When was the last time she had been so exquisitely well-rested, and in a hotel room of all places? Thanks to an incredible middle-of-the-night surprise from Gold, she'd slept soundly until morning. She reached over to thank him properly, but her grin faded when her hand met an empty pillow.

The cozy warmth of the room faded and a chill settled over her, the sunlight filtering through the window in cold, dull streaks. She sat up, rubbing her arms with a shiver; she missed the comforting warmth of Gold's arms holding her close. Her heart gave a disappointed thud, and she flopped back down and rolled over, burying her face in the pillows and squeezing her eyes shut once more. She couldn't believe he was gone. A mixture of anger, frustration, and sadness caught in her throat.

Her happy mood now soured, she considered skipping the library conference and moping in the room for the rest of the day. She opened one eye. The room service menu was on the bedside table. She wouldn't even need to move to have greasy onion rings and a fat, sloppy cheeseburger delivered to the room. Plus an ice cream sundae. No wallowing session was complete without ice cream. Her stomach rumbled in complaint.

Before she executed her plan to eat herself sick, she needed to empty her bladder. She flounced out of bed with a heavy sigh and slid her arms into the first piece of clothing she could find: Gold's discarded shirt from last evening. His scent clung to the soft garment, surrounding her while she splashed cold water on her face at the marble sink. Sulking, she scowled at the cave-style tile shower in the mirror behind her. She should shower and get ready for the conference—her true reason for coming to New York—but hobnobbing with big-city librarians and learning their secrets to success had lost its appeal. Gold had fled the scene, and all she wanted to do was go back to bed and pout.

She staggered out of the bathroom, rubbing her face with a towel.

"Morning." Gold's was standing outside the bathroom dressed in one of his distinctive three-piece suits, the ends of his hair still damp. His eyes flared with pleasure when he saw her. "Did I wake you, sweetheart?" An earnest frown appeared in the middle of his forehead.

Belle tried to speak, but all that came out was a squeak. He was still here. Warm and real, and wearing her favorite paisley blue tie. Forget room service—he looked good enough to eat.

Squealing, she dropped the towel and launched herself into his arms. He caught her, letting out a grunt of surprise when she landed against his chest. A collection of small white squares flew into the air and fluttered to the carpet.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't notice your hands were full."

"It's no matter." He grinned, his hands circling her waist and roaming downward to give her hips a light squeeze, the heat of his hands reminding her of what she was wearing: his dress shirt and nothing else. "I like what I'm holding now much better."

She let out a laugh of relief, and they both crouched down to scoop up the little white papers. "These are...index cards." Each card had a number in the corner and Gold's distinctive handwriting was scribbled across each card in thick black ink.

He crossed the room to the desk, but not before she caught him taking a peek down the front of her— _his_ —shirt. Quickly, he bent over the desk to reorder the cards, treating her to a tantalizing view of his backside. Good God, the man could wear a suit like no one she had ever met.

"They're all numbered so I don't lose track," he explained with his back turned, gathering them into a pile and shuffling them like a deck of cards. "I'm old-fashioned. No powerpoints or videos for me."

"I didn't even hear you get out of bed," she said, shifting in front of him to hop up on the desk. She crossed her legs and smiled. Her sunny mood was back full force. "And you're already dressed for the day. What are the cards for?"

He smiled slightly, still looking down at the cards. "I've been over here reviewing my notes. Wanted to let you sleep."

There was a faint blush on his cheeks, and she decided against telling him how she jumped to conclusions and made up her mind that he left without saying goodbye. "Notes for what?"

He shrugged, still studying the cards. "A short talk this morning."

"What kind of talk?" She lifted his tie and gave it a gentle tug, drawing him closer. She uncrossed her legs and he shuffled toward the desk.

"A pawnbrokers' thing. No big deal. Tea? Or do you like coffee when you wake up?" He glanced toward the small wet bar. "I haven't learned your morning habits yet."

"You're speaking at the conference?" she asked, incredulous.

Another shrug. "Aye. It's only a panel with two others," he added quickly, trying to dismiss his importance at the event. "No big deal."

"It most certainly is a big deal! To be asked to speak at a national event is a major honor." She beamed. "What's the topic?"

"Reputation management. Pawnshops, as you know, are rumored to for be corrupt, greasy establishments run by dishonest men wearing thick gold chains and dirty wife-beater t-shirts." He shuddered.

Belle made a face. "Such a terrible stereotype. Your shop is beautiful, and so is everything in it. You help people find wonderful momentoes they can treasure for a lifetime!"

"Let's not romanticize my work too much." He winced. "People will say I've lost my edge."

"And we can't have that."

"Indeed not."

"You know what else I can't believe," she continued, shifting her bottom forward on the desk so she could stroke a hand down his chest. The temptation to touch him was too much to ignore. She watched his chest rise and fall, his breath quickening beneath her palm. He took another hesitant step closer, moving to stand between her parted thighs.

"What's that?"

"You're giving a presentation at a conference, right here in this hotel, and when you realized the mix-up with the reservations, you still offered to leave last night and give me the room." She shook her head, astounded by his selflessness.

The mild blush on his cheeks deepened. "It was the right thing to do."

"You are an amazing man, has anyone told you that?"

"Never." He coughed and returned his attention to the index cards in his hands.

"Yes. Yes you are." She tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet her gaze, hoping he could read in her eyes how special he was. An ordinary man would have been much more concerned about impressing his colleagues the next morning, rather than worrying over the comfort of a woman he was only quasi-dating.

His golden brown eyes widened, darkening until they smoldered and Belle felt her pulse jump. She wanted to tear the perfectly cut suit off his body and drag him back to bed. She ran her teeth over her lower lip, smiling when he closed his eyes on a groan.

"Do you think you can make it through your presentation without a nap?" she teased, reaching up to twine her arms around his neck. "Last night you fell asleep when we were getting to the good part. But you made up for it later." She kissed the pulse-point in his neck, then swept the tip of her tongue lightly over his Adam's Apple.

He groaned and tilted his head back to give her better access. "I blame those magic hands of yours, running through my hair," he groused. "If the library ever gets tiresome, you've a promising career as a masseuse or a physical therapist."

"Mmmmmm, letting you sleep was not my intention." She alternated between nuzzling his throat with her nose and mouth. She tangled her fingers in his hair, inching closer until their chests were pressed together and he was standing fully between her legs. She tucked her heels around his calves, feeling the softness of his wool suit against her bare feet. "But it's always good to have a backup plan."

The pile of index cards dropped to the floor again when he moaned, his hands groping for her hips as he settled into the cradle of her thighs.

"Are you going to open with a joke?" she asked, punctuating the question with a kiss on his nose.

His pulled back, lip twitching in amusement. "I thought I might reenact part of the deli scene from _When Harry Met Sally._ "

"No," she whispered, drawing her hand down his belly to cup him through his trousers where he was hard and hot. Arousal unfurled in her belly, the thrill of knowing he wanted her a heady sensation. "You in the throes of passion isn't something I want anyone else to see or hear."

xoxo

Gold moaned again and let his eyes slide closed once more as she fondled him. He needed to check in downstairs with the conference organizers in forty-five minutes, an hour tops, but he couldn't form a cohesive thought with Belle coaxing him to readiness in her warm palm. Not that it took much.

"If you get nervous, imagine the audience naked," she suggested, her other hand slipping under his waistcoat to find his belt buckle.

"I'd much rather imagine you naked," he confessed.

"No imagining required." While she undid his belt with one hand, she unbuttoned the top three buttons of the shirt she wore, letting the gaping collar slide down over her right shoulder.

He kissed the warm, pink skin along her collarbone, his tongue dipping into the hollows beneath her neck until she squirmed and arched toward him.

The shirt parted to reveal her slender torso, the delicate bones of her ribs, and the inner curve of both breasts. Gold's mouth watered and he bunched the shirt, fisting it in his hands. He tugged it up from underneath her hips, cupping the soft globes of her arse in his palms. She wasn't wearing any knickers and only one small pearl-toned button grazing her navel kept the shirt from falling open and baring her completely to his gaze. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, tempted to flick the last button open. But there was something decadent about seeing her this way, not-quite-naked in broad daylight, flushed and breathless on top of the desk and moaning his name.

"See anything you like?" she asked, reclining on her elbows against the polished surface of the desk.

"I like _everything_ I see. Belle, you look…" his mouth closed, drying around his words. "You're wearing my shirt. You look a hell of a lot better than I've ever looked in it."

She hummed as though considering his compliment, her heated gaze raking over him from head to toe. "I'm going to have to disagree, but thank you. You don't mind me wearing this and nothing else?"

He leaned over her until she was lying flat on the desk, pinning her to the surface with the weight of his chest. His palm came to rest on top of her mound, then his fingers inched lower, dipping between her spread thighs to feel the evidence of her desire. "Does this answer your question?" He brushed his lips gently over hers, breathing her in, coaxing her closer to the edge of the desk.

"Yes," she whispered, lifting her hips, and he wasn't quite sure if her response was meant as a reply or encouragement to continue touching her. Maybe both.

She sat up quickly, taking him by surprise, and attacked his belt with both hands. In one smooth motion, she'd unbuttoned his trousers and slid them down his hips, along with his boxer-briefs, the layers of fabric puddling around his ankles.

"Do you, - ah- have time?" she asked as she took his naked flesh in hand, her question reminding him of the bloody conference.

He didn't know. He didn't care. All he could manage was a desperate moan when she caressed his length and squeezed. His head moved up in down in a rapid, ragged nod of assent.

Quickies in the daytime, the adrenaline-charged rush of acting on desire, all of this was foreign to him. He'd never done anything like this before, had never had a woman asking to be with him. Certainly not when he'd been married to Milah, who'd snapped at him to hurry whenever they were intimate. More often than not she slapped away his advances, complaining of a headache. After a while, he had stopped asking. Life was certainly different since he'd started seeing Belle French.

Before another gasp escaped his lips, her hands were on his arse, propelling him forward, pressing him inside her. Strong, slender legs wrapped around his back, drawing him deep, while her hands splayed over his arse, grinding their hip bones together. She was slick and tight, already fluttering around him, and he threw his head back and cried out, a raw ember burning in his belly.

Gold's hands found her breasts, plucking her nipples until she keened. He rocked into her again and again, keeping the tempo hard and fast in time with her delighted sighs and gasps. He raised his head to watch her pleasure through heavy-lidded eyes. Making love to Belle under cover of darkness with only sounds and touches to guide him had been incredible, but being inside her while her hair tumbled loose around her shoulders, breasts swaying every time their hips met, her lush mouth open around a string of moans, was a feast for all his senses. He shifted his hands to frame her hips and tilted her backward, changing the angle so he could move inside her with quick, shallow strokes that grazed her clit with every thrust.

A broken sob tore from her throat and she rolled her hips in frantic circles, chasing her release. One more hard thrust and her body was clenching around his cock, draining him of everything he had.

xoxo

While their bodies cooled and their breaths slowed, Belle carded her hands through his hair in soothing sweeps. Meaningless murmurs melted into kisses until she unhooked her legs from around his waist. He slipped out of her and stepped back from the desk.

Although she was wearing far less clothing than he, Gold looked debauched and achingly vulnerable with his trousers around his ankles and his tie thrown over one shoulder. He was trembling, and her heart fluttered when he reached for the wall to steady himself.

"That was incredible," she praised, kissing his temple and his mouth before turning her attention to smoothing his waistcoat and fixing his tie. "You're wonderful."

He shook his head, a bemused expression on his face while she secured his tie pin. "How come you're always so kind to me?" he asked.

At first she thought he was teasing, and she opened her mouth to say something witty to make him laugh, but his eyes were carefully blank, jaw set in a rigid line. Steeling himself against rejection, she realized.

"Oh, honey." She sighed and hopped off the desk, bending to pick up the index cards that had fallen. "It's called common decency. The fact that you even need to ask tells me you haven't been on the receiving end of it often enough."

"I see." He ducked his head, his hair falling forward over his cheeks.

"There's probably another reason, though." She swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. Who was she fooling except herself? She'd had a short list of dull relationships, each lasting anywhere from a few weeks to a couple of years. There had been Gary, Keith, and finally Will. Not one of them had sparked the emotion she felt for Gold. She wasn't simply infatuated; she was head-over-heels in love with him, and it was time to admit the truth to herself and him. Belle took a deep breath. _Do the brave thing._ "I suppose I'm also kind to you because I'm in love with you."

"Pardon?" He lifted his head, pupils blown wide with disbelief. But the small, crooked smile she adored twisted the corner of his mouth, trying to crack his serious facade.

"I love you." She cupped his cheek, rubbing her fingers over his clean-shaven jaw and feeling the muscles beneath her fingers relax. "Is that all right?" she added anxiously. "Is it too soon to say it?"

"No. Not to soon." The broadest, sweetest smile she had ever seen split his face, causing his dimples to pop and his eyes to brighten. He was charming in his exuberance, almost jubilant, and her heart felt full to bursting.

"Have you ever been in love before?" she asked. As soon as the question was out, she wanted to beg for a retraction. She'd said the words, but he hadn't said them back. Maybe he wasn't ready, and she didn't want to pressure him. Just because he didn't object to hearing it from her didn't mean he returned the sentiment.

Memories of lonely months of watching library movies alone returned full force, embarrassed longing beating a dull ache in her breast. She felt like she was floating above a scene in the movie of her own life, watching another version of herself guard the empty seat beside her while she played childish games with a box of Raisinettes. She saw herself pluck the little chocolate-coated dried fruits out of the box one at a time and drop them into the grass while she thought of Gold. _He likes me. He doesn't like me._ or _He's coming tonight. He's not coming tonight._

She imagined Gold appearing at the end of the aisle leaning on his cane, a lopsided smirk on his face. _"Is this seat taken,"_ he would ask, indicating the chair she had covered with a purse and a scarf in her effort to dissuade anyone from sitting down. A rush of pleasure would course through her while she stared unseeing at the screen while Gold settled into his rightful place beside her. As it turned out, they'd only ever made it through part of one movie together, but it didn't matter. They were here now together, and she had bared her heart. Now she was forcing him to bare his with awkward inelegance, and the timing was wrong. He needed to leave for a presentation and she was making him late.

"I'm sorry. That was a stupid question. You were married before." What an idiot she was, acting jealous of his ex-wife. The other woman wasn't part of Gold's life anymore and hadn't been in years, but Belle still felt like she was chasing after a shadow. Milah's indifference and betrayal had hurt Gold deeply. Belle wanted so much to be different, someone who could be good for him and love him the way he deserved.

"I thought I was, once."

"With Milah," she supplied, unable to keep a trace of bitterness from her voice.

"That's right." He paused, then smiled again. "And then Belle French came along, with her movies and books and little cartons of Chinese food, and I realized what I thought I felt in my marriage hadn't been real."

"Oh?" she asked, her face warming. "What are you saying?"

"I love you, too, Belle."

"Why, Branan Gold." Her cheeks burned from the strength of her smile and her chest flooded with relief. She wanted to open the window and scream "He loves me!" so all of Manhattan could hear. Instead she gripped his hands and drew them to her mouth for a kiss. "You really are a hopeless romantic, aren't you? Tough as nails on the outside, but a total marshmallow with puppies and women."

"Only one puppy and one woman," he said, drawing her into his arms. "But don't tell anyone."

xoxo

The panel was twenty minutes underway, and all Gold could think about was Belle.

While he half-listened to another panelist, Carolina DeVil, drone on about her Instagram success, his mind replayed the wonderful morning. Their impromptu lovemaking, their flirtations, their love confessions. When Belle had appeared appeared in the bathroom doorway, warm and flushed from sleep and clad in nothing but one of his dress shirts, he could have swallowed his tongue.

 _"Knock 'em dead," Belle told him with a cheerful grin as she fussed with his tie again before he left for the conference. She tucked his ordered index cards into the inside breast pocket of his suit, then swatted his backside._

 _He growled and backed her up against the door for one more quick, hard kiss before he dragged himself out the door. But the little minx twined her hands in his hair and he was lost. By the time he pushed away from her warm soft, body, he was gulping for air and had no clue how many minutes had passed. He groped for his pocket watch and snapped it open. Good. Still six minutes before check-in._

 _"First the desk, now the wall." Belle feigned a dramatic sigh, her wide, satisfied smile telling him she wasn't the least bit bothered. "How about we test the strength of those windows later tonight?" she suggested._

 _"You want us to bare our arses to Times Square?" His jaw slackened in surprise. "Hmmm,_ _I'm starting to think you just like me pinning you up against things, sweetheart."_

 _She licked her lips. "Won't hear me complaining."_

 _She sent him off with more kisses, and Gold staggered into the hotel hallway wearing a ridiculous grin. There was a spring in his step as he ambled toward the elevators, whistling all the way._ _He was accustomed to taking control in business, but his personal life had always been either nonexistent or a hot mess. Thanks to Belle French, he hardly recognized himself._

He yanked himself out of his daydreaming and attempted to focus on the panel.

"Isn't Instagram little more than a playground for self-involved celebrities or stay-at-home Insta-moms with nothing better to do?" drawled a skinny, greying bespectacled man seated in the third row of the audience.

Insta-moms, indeed. Gold couldn't help but roll his eyes at the snootiness of the question. No doubt the old fool had picked up the term from one of his grandchildren and had no clue how to even set up an Instagram account, much less post. Not that he was claiming to be proficient, but at least he knew what he didn't know.

Belle had an Instagram account; maybe she could teach him how to use those hashtaggy things to boost his brand. His idea of public relations was impeccable dress and keeping the shop's offerings upscale and classy. The approach worked to a point, but in a heavily regulated industry in the age of Internet shopping with same-day Amazon delivery, he needed every advantage to compete.

Instagram mothers...Belle. Oh God. A chill ran over him and cold sweat prickled on the back of his neck. In the proverbial heat of the moment, he'd forgotten to talk to her about birth control. They'd been together twice, and he hadn't uttered a single syllable about condoms or sponges or the Pill. They loved each other, but it was all so new. He doubted either one of them would welcome an unplanned pregnancy.

Gold gulped, the taste of regret bitter on his tongue. She probably thought he was a total, unmitigated ass. He dared a furtive glance at his pocket watch, wondering how soon he could slip away to grovel.

"Mr. Gold?"

"What? Yes. Here." He looked down the row of chairs, to where the moderator was giving him a dirty look.

Ms. DeVil sent him a cold smirk from her position two spots away. "That's the third time we've called your name, darling. Smashing of you to join us."

###


	10. Chapter 10

Summary: Carolina meets Belle and takes great pleasure in riling Gold, Belle and Gold clear the air, and there's smut in a cab.  
A/N: Yes, we're still in New York City, kids. This was meant to be the last chapter, but I was having so much fun with the snark between Carolina (Cruella) and Gold, and then my brain said, "What this fic needs is a hand job in a cab!" You're welcome.

"That was quite a performance, darling," Carolina said, stepping down off the dais when the panel ended. "I especially enjoyed the part where you said nothing at all."

Ignoring the barb, Gold watched the other attendees file out of the meeting room in noisy clusters. Some stood in the corners of the room to check mobile phones, while others hastened to the sponsored Coffee & Cookie Break, desperate for a jolt of caffeine and sugar. Giving Carolina the brush off was the less adversarial course of action, but he wasn't about to bolt from the room like a frightened child. This shark could smell blood from miles away.

"And yet, I managed to make it through the morning without imbibing a fifth of gin," he replied through bared teeth. His gaze remained on the emptying room; he was biding his time until he could pop over to the Library Association of America Conference and catch a glimpse of Belle, maybe even say hello and pull her aside for a quick kiss. And they really needed to have that birth control conversation sooner rather than later.

Carolina tsked. "Multitasking, darling. Men do it so poorly."

She flicked the fur stole draping her shoulders out of her way, enveloping him in a cloud of her oppressive perfume. He coughed and looked her up and down with disdain, taking in her full body leather jumpsuit. "Before you head to your next engagement, you'll want to catch a cab downtown. This section of Manhattan frowns on lolling about on street corners."

"Is that any way to talk to an old friend?" She pouted.

"Friend?" He snorted. "Only when I'm using my expertise to extricate you from a legal snafu with one of your former marital partners. What is it this time? New husband? Wife? Or are you going to wed one of your canine companions next?"

Carolina wasn't listening anymore. He followed her gaze. She was scanning the rows of chairs in the back of the auditorium. "Dammit, I lost her," she muttered.

"What the hell are you looking at?"

"At the moment? Nothing good." She glared at him. "There was a scrumptious brunette in the back row earlier. Thought I might chat her up at the bar, but the way she was looking at you, I thought she might have you for breakfast. Didn't you notice, or was that when you dropped your notes and forgot your name?"

Had Belle been here? He could feel the skin on his neck turning red. "During the panel?"

"Must you be so obvious, Gold? So you're either shagging her or, if she has anything to say about it, you're about to be."

He inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to collect his last shreds of patience. "Was that meant to be a question?"

"That's a yes. How long have you been seeing her?" She chortled, elbowing him hard in the ribs. "God, what'll this do to your reputation in Book River, or whatever the hell podunk town you're wasting away in?"

"My home is in Storybrooke. And I don't care." It was the first honest thing he'd said to her. With Belle in his life, he was happier than he'd ever been, and he wasn't going to let anyone else spoil it, especially a gin-soaked primadonna like Carolina.

"What's her claim to fame?" Carolina asked.

He smiled nastily. "She's a librarian. Best damn one I've ever met, too. She hosts a movie night at the library once a month and people love it. We watched _The Wizard of Oz_ recently. Come to think of it, didn't I see you onscreen, riding a broomstick?"

"Didn't I see you riding in the basket on the front of a bicycle?" she said crisply. "Oh!" Carolina let out a low whistle. "Here she comes now. From far away she's gorgeous, but up close she's breathtaking. And look at that, she's petite so you don't even have to stand on a stepstool to kiss her."

Panic began to rise in his chest. He didn't want Belle exposed to his unsavory associates, especially this one. He wished there was some way he could warn her off, but he didn't want her to think he had anything to hide, either. If only he had one of those smartphone thingies. He could text Belle some sort of signal.

"Aren't you seeing someone?" Gold asked out of the corner of his mouth while Belle approached, hips swaying and smile bright. "An aquarium director?"

"Relax, Gold. Green has never been your color. Although your puppy dog devotion is rather adorable. Does she return the sentiment, or is she just in it for the mediocre sex?"

"The sex is fantastic!" Belle slid her arm around his waist and claimed his mouth in a hard, possessive kiss. She turned to Carolina with a broad, almost evil smile and held out her hand. "Belle French, charmed to meet you, Mrs.…"

" _Ms_. Carolina DeVil." Carolina threw her stole around her neck with a huff, a sure sign she had been caught off guard.

Gold couldn't help his own smug smile. He should have known better than to doubt Belle's ability to handle herself. He really did need to whisk her away for a conversation about protected sex before the next session began, but before he could lead her away, Carolina laid a manicured hand on Belle's arm.

Her eyes gleamed with eagerness, and Gold bit back a groan.

"How positively radiant of you to stop in and check on Gold, darling. What with such a poor showing on the panel he'll be in need of some cheering up."

"I can't imagine Branan being poor at anything," Belle corrected, arching a brow. "I heard all of his remarks and they were quite informative, particularly when other panelists weren't hogging the spotlight." She gave Carolina a pointed look.

Carolina threw back her head and laughed. "I like this young lady, Gold," she announced. "We must get together tonight and have dinner."

"Dinner?" he responded with a smirk. "Since when is gin a food group?"

She waved a dismissive hand at him and turned to Belle. "He's in one of his beastly moods again, I see. But you're such a witty, charming creature, and I demand we get better acquainted. I won't take no for an answer."

Gold crossed his arms and shook his head. He needed to intervene before they wound up at some drunk karaoke night, like the last time he'd made the mistake of joining Carolina for dinner at a conference. "We have other plans."

Carolina maneuvered between him and Belle, tossing her stole in his face. They linked arms, and Carolina walked Belle slowly toward the lobby, with him trailing behind. "So how did you two...well, forgive me if my question is gauche, darling, but he's not exactly a people person, is he?" Carolina shot a look at him over her shoulder.

"Belle, you don't have to answer that," he said, spitting bits of fur off his tongue.

"Love, it's okay." Belle reached for his hand and drew him to her other side so she was walking between them. It was an image of rose between thorns if he'd ever seen one. They reached the lobby, and while he and Carolina glared at each other, Belle fell into hostess mode, pouring cups of coffee for all three of them.

Belle stirred cream into her cup and smiled. "It took me some time to get to know Branan, but it's been worth every moment."

"Fascinating." Carolina plucked a cheese danish from one of the trays of sweets on the table in front of them, then tossed it back. She pulled a flask from her handbag and dumped a healthy portion of gin into her cup. "In all our years as colleagues, never once have I see Gold with a woman—or a man—at one of these things. I was beginning to wonder about his ability to carry on a relationship at all."

"Jealous?" He smirked, picking up a chocolate chip cookie and putting it on a plate.

"Yes, actually," Carolina replied. "I need a Belle of my own. Anyone who can handle your disposition is a rare gem."

"Sweetheart," he said, stabbing the cookie over and over with his fork until it was a mutilated mess, "why don't you ask the Love Doctor here how many times she's been married?"

Carolina scoffed. "You can hardly blame me because the first two died within a year of saying our vows."

"And did they jump off bridges or opt for poison, dearie?" he asked, then drained his coffee cup in three large gulps. "If you're truly miserable, I hear hemlock's a quick, painless way to go."

"Belle French, you have the patience of a saint to put up with this one," Carolina declared. "Do you have a brother, darling?"

"No."

"Shame. How about a sister?"

Belle shrugged. "I'm an only child, I'm afraid."

"Pity. You'll make it up to me tonight by buying me drinks." The matter decided, she clapped her hands twice. "Cipriani Downtown. Seven sharp. Don't be late, darlings. I abhor tardiness."

xoxo

Gold looked out the window of the taxi at the city lights, rehearsing what he wanted to say to Belle. A stale-smelling cab wasn't an appropriate place for this conversation, but he sure as hell couldn't sip martinis and sit across the table from Carolina DeVil with birth control weighing on his mind.

He hadn't seen Belle again. They'd both been in and out of conference sessions throughout the day, barely stealing five minutes to splash of water on their faces before it was time to go. After a long, exhausting day among strangers, all he wanted was to curl up with her and order room service, but they'd agreed to dinner with Carolina, and an agreement, like a deal, was an unbreakable contract to him.

Belle leaned against his chest in the car, her closeness reminding him of how good it had felt to share a bed with her. She had slept snuggled against him the way his puppy did after a long walk, all warm limbs and peaceful sighs. Rather than giving in to sleep, he'd spent a long time watching the rising sun chase the darkness from the room, enchanted by the woman in his arms. Remembering her passionate moans made his ears burn and his neck flush and he stuck a finger inside his too-tight collar to relieve the pressure on his neck. No matter the consequences, he couldn't bring himself to regret a single kiss or touch.

He took another glance at the cab driver in the rearview mirror. Some drivers wanted to talk and point out tourist attractions, but this one had earbuds stuck in his ears and was bopping his head to jazz music. Wearing headphones while driving was illegal in New York State, but the cabbie hadn't said a word to them since they gave the address of the restaurant, so Gold was thankful.

"Belle, I'm so sorry. About before," he blurted, then looked at her helplessly. It was a lame statement that told her nothing at all.

She pressed her lips together. "Sorry? For what?"

"You know, I never did get you coffee or tea this morning," he said, stalling. "What was it you said you preferred to wake up to?"

Her smile made his insides quiver like jelly. "You're sweet, but I actually didn't say. It's coffee in the morning, tea after lunch." The edges of her smile faded, and she narrowed her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said with a nervous laugh.

"Branan," she began in a tone that said she didn't believe him, "what's going on? You can talk to me. About anything."

"I know," he said, looking at the floor of the cab. Their driver honked and gestured at another car, then swerved into the next lane. "I'm sorry."

"You keep apologizing." Her flushed cheeks went pale. "Do-do you mean you're sorry about last night? Or this morning?"

"No!" He grabbed her hands and kissed the insides of her wrists. Her pulse hammered against his lips, and he realized he was worrying her. "Belle, please don't misunderstand me, sweetheart. I'm not sorry for a single moment I've spent with you."

Relief flooded her face, the color rushing back into her cheeks. "You're sure?"

"Yes, of course. I could never be sorry about us. What I was trying to say, with a total lack of eloquence, is we never talked about birth control. I've no excuse, of course, but I don't think we're ready for, um, for…"

"For babies and growing old together on a porch in a set of Cracker Barrel rocking chairs?" she concluded, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Exactly." He squeezed her hands, his relief palpable. "Not today, at least. But maybe someday?"

The brilliant smile was back, and her hand found his bad knee, massaging the gnarled flesh lightly. "I'm on the Pill. Have been since you finally came to the Movie Night at the library."

"Oh? Oh."

"Yeah. So not only do you know there's nothing to worry about, now I've admitted that I've had designs on you for a while, Mr. Gold." The hand on his knee crept upward toward his thigh and the swerve of the cab pressed her more tightly against his side.

He wasn't complaining.

"I can honestly say I've never been more flattered in my entire life." He grabbed her hand again and kissed the knuckles, then slumped back against the seat, allowing her to continue massaging his leg. Her hands felt amazing, and he savored her nearness, the light floral scent of her skin tickling his nostrils. The only physical touch he'd had in years before Belle came into his life was the occasional hug from Neal, and now he was with a woman who not only accepted his touch but welcomed it. A pleasant change, to say the least.

"Was that all that was bothering you?" she whispered in his ear, glancing toward the driver who was now singing Kenny G in an off-key tone.

"Yes. No. I don't really want to go to this dinner." He growled when she nipped his earlobe with her teeth. "I don't want to share you. Especially not with Carolina DeVil. We had cookies and coffee with her; isn't that enough punishment?"

Belle laughed, tickling his neck with her warm breath. "It'll be good for us, maybe, to spend a little while with someone else. Practice for when we're back home. Ruby is dying to get us out on a double date with her and Archie."

"You're too nice, sweetheart." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Fine. We will distract Ms. DeVil from her tragic little existence long enough to have a cocktail and share a plate of bruschetta. Then we're moving locations."

"Deal." She giggled, and although he was dead serious about getting them the hell out of there at the earliest possible moment, he did love to make his sweetheart laugh.

"But while we're here in traffic, let me relax you."

The hand rubbing his thigh snaked upward toward his groin and she cupped the front of his trousers. He jerked his hips with a gasp. "Belle!"

xoxo

"Yes?" She fluttered her eyelashes, playing innocent. The cab driver hadn't glanced in the rearview once, and she'd checked repeatedly, ever since she concocted this little plan.

He looked down at her hand, still massaging his groin, and then toward the cabbie, his expression guarded. He shifted in the seat. "What are you doing?"

"I told you." She leaned close enough to blow her warm breath into his ear, pleased when he shuddered. She smiled against his shoulder. Although she would never admit it out loud, she loved it when he was grouchy with everyone except her. "I'm going to help you relax."

"What?" His gaze flicked back at the driver. "But he's—"

"Paying absolutely no attention to us," she finished, then scraped his earlobe with her teeth till he shivered again and groaned. "Don't worry. Just let me make you feel good." Her fingers danced lightly across the front panel of his trousers, and she crowded him closer to the door, in case their driver should decide to glance in the back after all.

She leaned across his body for a kiss, nibbling at his lips. He opened his mouth for her on a gasp, and she took full advantage, sliding her tongue into his mouth and working her fingers into his hair. He wrapped his arms tight around her back and moaned, the sound sending tingles down her spine. When their lips parted, Belle was the one who was lightheaded and struggling for breath. He chuckled, a light self-assured sound leaving no doubt he knew exactly what effect his kisses had on her.

But it was Belle's turn to take back control, and she was determined to take his mind off their upcoming dinner. She rubbed her hands together to warm them, then unzipped his trousers and parted his boxer briefs to wrap her hand around his length.

His eyes flew open, a look of surprise rippling across his handsome face. His jaw hardened with resolve, his fingers lightly circling her wrist. "You don't have to do this."

"Shhh. I want to." She began to caress him with firm, slow strokes, grinning when he slumped against the seat and closed his eyes with a sigh of surrender. Sparing another furtive glance at the ignorant cab driver, Belle experimented with soft, feathery touches and hard, quick strokes, then twisted her wrist until he yelped and opened eyes fiery with desire.

Their driver swerved and smashed the horn, muffling the sound of Gold's cry, and Belle bit her lower lip and wrapped both hands around him, her breath hitching as he watched her pleasuring him. His glazed eyes and slackened jaw, the way he watched her hands move up and down his cock, made her skin itch and the place between her thighs grow warm and damp. Her breasts tightened and she leaned against his side, rubbing her nipples against his ribs with a whimper.

He groaned her name, his hips thrusting upward, lifting off the leather seat as he writhed and strained toward her. His desperate reaction to her touch was making her core throb, and she guided his hand inside her blouse to relieve the sweet-hot ache. It was all the encouragement he needed to cup her breast with a growl, and he plucked and pulled at her nipple through her bra.

Still working at her breast, Gold snaked up her skirt with his free hand and brushed his fingers against her knickers, the slight contact making her moan. Pushing the gusset aside, he plunged his long fingers inside her while he rubbed and flicked her clit with his thumb. Her hands on his cock stilled, her body keyed up and rushing toward release. He pinched her clit between thumb and finger, and she gave herself over to the pleasure, coming hard against his hand with a low moan.

Belle lifted her hips and shimmied out of her underwear, draping his cock with the warm, soft fabric. Again she began to stroke him, using the friction between silk and hot flesh to carry him over the edge. Rocking his hips, he spurted over her hand and into her knickers, and she captured his mouth, swallowing his cries with her kiss. While he shook and whimpered, she continued to rub the knickers against his flesh until he stilled and opened his eyes. The dazed look on his face made her smile. His clothes were slightly rumpled, his hair tousled and he looked absolutely adorable.

"Belle," he whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said, sliding her palms up his chest to feel his heartbeat. Seeing him lose control, his body now boneless and sated beneath her hands, was the most erotic experience of her life. Belle tossed the soiled knickers into her handbag and tucked him back into his trousers just as the cab pulled up to the curb, signaling their arrival at the restaurant.

"And we're here!" she exclaimed, reaching across him to open the door and handing him his cane. She paid the driver while he climbed out of the car, his legs wobbling as he gained his footing and pressed the butt of his cane into the pavement.

"Feel better?" she asked, tucking her arm in his and leading him toward the door.

The smug look on his face and the swagger in his step was all the answer she needed.

###


	11. Chapter 11

Summary: Gold and Belle return from New York City and settle into life as a couple. They go on a double date with Archie and Ruby which Neal and Emma crash with a confession.

A/N: Written for AMR July prompt What are you wearing? I tried to get this done for the June AMR: "drinking, karaoke, dancing, kissing, date," but you know how it goes. And for my 500k Ficlet Fling, maplesyrupao3 prompted: "Come over here and say that."

Lots of relationship odds and ends here and I'm coming to the close of this story! I'm finishing the last chapter right now! Thanks to everyone who came with me on this journey. This story started as a one-shot and became so much more!

Luck is the residue of design, or so they say, but Gold hadn't planned for any of his good fortune. Adopting a dog, making weekend plans involving more than sitting at home, falling in love with someone who loved him in return. Suddenly he had a real life and someone wonderful to share it with. Belle's love was lighting up his entire world, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this happy.

Two weeks ago, after seven wonderful days in New York City together, they had returned to Storybrooke from their respective conferences. Long days of speakers and workshops didn't leave them much time and energy for fun, so they decided to extend their visit.

They window shopped, walked through museums, and browsed the Library of Congress. They ate in restaurants running the gamut between the luxurious fois gras and oysters at Le Coucou and a tiny, hole-in-the-wall joint in Little Italy with the best tiramisu to ever pass his lips. They visited the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. He'd even arranged a carriage ride in Central Park, and the bliss on Belle's face while they'd toured the tree-lined avenues and learned the history of the park had so captivated him that he'd barely heard a word uttered by their stout Sicilian driver. What started out as a boring business trip had turned into a spontaneous romantic getaway, and he would never see New York the same way again.

After Belle blew his mind in the cab ride to meet Carolina for dinner, he'd given up wondering how or why the hotel had canceled her room. Instead, he devoted his attention to brewing her fresh coffee every morning and savored the feeling of her hand curled around his arm while they strolled down Manhattan sidewalks.

He'd come back to Storybrooke half-expecting life to sink back into the mundane, but his fairytale existence continued with long lunches, stolen kisses, and walks with Belle and Rumple the puppy every evening. His biggest problem was deciding whether they should spend the night at his house or hers.

Now he was settled into a booth at Granny's, sharing a basket of fries with his sweetheart while they waited for Ruby Lucas and Archie Hopper to arrive. According to Belle, Ruby had changed her mind about him being the devil's spawn, so much so that she had been pestering Belle for the four of them to go on a double date. Ruby decided dinner at Granny's followed by karaoke at the Rabbit Hole was a good icebreaker. Gold shrugged and went along with her plans; as long as Belle enjoyed herself and he didn't have to sing in public, he didn't care.

Belle swiped a French fry from his side of the basket and winked, squeezing his knee as she popped it into her mouth. Sitting next to her in the booth instead of across from each other had been a grand idea. He couldn't gaze into her eyes, but under the table the heel of her foot was rubbing against his calf, her hand resting on his bad knee. He arched his back as her bare heel kneaded the back of his leg, nearly purring aloud at how good it felt.

He couldn't wait to get her back to his house and out of the denim skirt and frilly white tank top she was wearing, although her apartment above the library was about five minutes closer. What did it matter, so long as the surface they landed on was horizontal?

Gold eyed the door. Maybe he could fake an illness; then they could forget this whole double date dinner followed by the drunken massacre of cheesy love songs. Unfortunately, it was too late to make an escape. Miss Lucas chose that moment to flop into the booth on the opposite side of the table. Dr. Hopper followed with a smile and a soft-spoken hello.

"Oh my gosh!" Ruby exclaimed.

"What's wrong, Rubes?" Belle asked. "Hey, Archie."

"Nothing." Ruby's gaze was swinging back and forth between him and Belle, her green eyes lively with merriment. "I've never seen...you're glowing!"

"Why, thank you," Belle said, turning a becoming shade of pink. Under the table, she gave his knee another secret squeeze.

"Not you, Belle. I was talking to Gold." Ruby shook her head. "What are you wearing, Gold? New suit? Wow! You look fifteen years younger than the last time I saw you and it's kind of sexy."

 _Sexy?_ He adjusted his tie and looked to Belle for help. Yes, he was wearing a new blue pinstripe he and Belle had chosen together in New York, but he hadn't expected anyone to comment on it. To say he was unaccustomed to kindness from Ruby was an understatement, and the wolfish gleam in her eyes was most unnerving.

Belle had agreed to a double date, not a boyfriend swap, right?

"Ruby!" Belle rolled her eyes and tossed a French fry in her friend's direction. "What's the matter with you?"

"Sorry, Belles." Ruby frowned, attempting to look contrite. "You look good, too, but Gold just looks well...Archie, honey, doesn't Mr. Gold look sexy?"

Archie coughed into his fist, trying to cover a broad grin. "I think when you see someone for who they really are, it changes their appearance for better or for worse, honey."

"Sounds like shrink speak to me." Ruby wrinkled her nose. "Translation...since Gold and I no longer hate each other's guts, he looks more like a good-looking guy and less like a troll? No offense, Gold."

"None taken." He smirked, deciding if Ruby was going to dish it out, she could take it back. "You look far less like a bitter shrew than the last time I saw you."

They all laughed, including Ruby. "I'll take it."

Archie pushed his glasses up his nose. "Gold, you do look happy. As does Belle. Congratulations to you both."

"Thank you." He slid an arm around Belle. "Belle makes me happy."

"Happy and sexy aren't the same," Ruby countered, another sly smile spreading across her face.

Belle stopped rubbing his calf with her foot and narrowed her eyes. "You might wanna stop saying my boyfriend's name and sexy in the same sentence, Ruby."

Gold tightened his arm around her shoulders protectively. Belle didn't seem angry, but was it possible she was actually jealous?

He tried not to preen, but if his chest expanded any further, his pride was going to burst the buttons of his waistcoat. Ruby was teasing, he knew, but no one had ever cared for him enough to stake a claim, not even his ex-wife when they'd been married. If another woman had complimented him in Milah's presence, she would have laughed and told her she was more than welcome to take him off her hands.

"Okay, okay, I'm stopping." Ruby picked up her menu and peered at him over the top. "Gold, do you use a round hairbrush when you blow dry?"

"Ruby!" Belle wailed, laughing. "I'm gonna smack you in the head with _my_ round hairbrush if you don't knock it off!"

"Sorry, Belle. Let's order. Should we order?" Ruby took a sudden interest in the list of specials their waitress brought to the table.

"We should definitely order," Belle said. She flicked her straw wrapper at Ruby, giggling when it hit her between the eyes.

Archie must have noticed the confusion on his face. "Don't worry about it, Gold. They're kidding. Honest. These two have teased each other like this ever since we were kids. This is nothing compared to fourth-grade art class."

"I'll get used to it," he said wryly.

"What choice do you have?" Ruby asked cheerfully as she scanned the menu. "Belle's stuck with me, so you are, too, Gold."

"Noted," he replied, turning his attention to his own menu.

I'm starved," Belle piped up, even though they'd already eaten a basket of fries.

"Same," Ruby groaned. "Karaoke is starting soon and we need to fuel up and head to the Rabbit Hole. Let's get some chocolate cake, too. And peppermint tea to soothe our vocal cords. Gold, do you like chocolate?"

"I'm no match for Belle when it comes to chocolate, but, aye, I have a sweet tooth," he admitted.

"Pie." Belle said, her eyes sparkling. "Pie is Gold's weakness. Especially berry or apple."

He reddened, rewinding to the night in New York when they'd gone to a posh little bakery on 42nd street called the Little Pie Company and brought thick wedges of sour cream apple walnut pie and three-berry pie back to the hotel room. They'd stayed up half the night feeding each other and licking whipped cream off each other's bodies.

"What a welcome change from Will Scarlet," Ruby continued, rolling her eyes. "His idea of dessert was carrot sticks. Remember, Belle? Every time we ordered Granny's chocolate cake, he would tell us how many calories and fat grams were in it. People don't eat dessert to be miserable."

Gold exchanged an amused look with Belle. Her ex-boyfriend, Will, was a fitness instructor and a health nut, but no doubt Ruby knew the details. Over the last few weeks, Belle had revealed enough about her ex to assure him they hadn't been compatible and Will Scarlet's recent move cross-country move to Oregon meant he wouldn't be showing up in Storybrooke anytime soon.

"Ruby." Belle reached out and patted her hand. "Relax, sweetie. You don't have to try so hard."

The grin on Ruby's face fell away. "All teasing aside, I'm just...really happy for you both and so sorry for the way I acted when you were first getting together. My best friend is finally in love. And I hope we can all be good friends." She looked at him. "What do you say, Gold?"

"I hope so, too." He smiled at her, feeling awkward but grateful. He and Ruby may not have much in common, but their love for Belle was something they could agree on.

"Aw, I love you, Rubes," Belle said.

She and Ruby were getting misty-eyed, and Gold met Archie's eyes and cleared his throat. Ruby Lucas's quirky, outspoken personality was growing on him.

By the time they ordered and the food came, Ruby was pumping Belle for details about their time in New York and while they giggled and squealed over Belle's new fragrance from Jo Malone, Archie asked him if he did much fishing.

"I haven't hooked a line since Neal was a boy," Gold admitted, though he'd enjoyed the peaceful cadence of the activity.

"Fishing's kind of like riding a bicycle," Archie said. "Takes a little while to get the rhythm back but you never forget how. I like to take a boat on the lake, throw my line, and sit and listen to the water and think. It's such a peaceful, restful break from the busyness of life. You're welcome to join me anytime. Perhaps Ruby and Belle could come along, too."

"Either way, I would like that," Gold said, and he was surprised to realize he meant it. This notion of making friends wasn't turning out to be as bad as he expected.

"Speaking of fishing, what happened with you guys and the hotel mix-up is so romantic." Ruby broke into the conversation with a heavy sigh, then flashed a mischievous grin. "So, did you see anything except the inside of your hotel room?"

"Yes, there was some sightseeing," Belle replied, then took a long, studious sip of iced tea.

"Uh huh. I'll bet there was—for the people in the building across the street."

Ruby and Belle both giggled again, and Gold wondered if Belle was thinking about the morning they'd made love against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel room as the sun was rising.

He certainly was, he realized, shifting uncomfortably on the booth bench.

"The Frick Museum is brilliant," Gold put in, guiding the conversation away from the bedroom. "What an Impressionist collection. I hadn't played tourist in the city in ages, but Belle hadn't been, so after our conferences ended we decided to stay so I could show her around." Belle's delight in the simplest pleasures—like the hot pretzel carts and pop-up flower stands—had made what began as a boring, rote visit to the city feel exciting and new.

"How do you think you two ended up in the same city, in the same hotel, at the exact same time?" Archie asked, beaming.

"Yeah, a pretty existential coincidence, if you ask me," Ruby added.

"I believe we decide our own fates," Belle said, "but I also think opportunity pushes us in the right direction when we need it most." She turned to him. "What do you think, Branan?"

He drew her head onto his shoulder, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Sweetheart, I couldn't agree more."

* * *

After polishing off their burgers at Granny's, Belle, Gold, Ruby, and Archie moved locations to the Rabbit Hole for karaoke. The pool tables were shifted to the perimeter of the room, making way for a stage, and the four of them were gathered at a table within spitting distance of the microphones.

"Are your voices warm?" Ruby asked over the clatter of voices. She sipped from a steaming mug of licorice tea spiked with ouzo, an anise-flavored spirit, and cleared her throat. "Karaoke is about to start. You should try this tea; it's good for the pipes."

Gold raised his glass, the ice cubes tinkling. "I'll stick with the scotch."

"Nice try, Rubes." Belle sipped her chocolate martini and shook her head. "You know I love you, but we're still gonna sit this one out."

On the walk from Granny's to the Rabbit Hole, Ruby had begged and pleaded for the four of them to sing "That's What Friends Are For," but Belle shut the door on it. She didn't have much of a singing voice and she wasn't drunk enough to make a fool of herself singing cheesy songs.

Gold sang for her once—in private—when they were in bed together. He had a beautiful, raspy voice and the lyrics he'd murmured while he held her made her cheeks and heart grow warm. She was secretly glad he also refused to sing tonight; maybe it was silly, but she wasn't ready to share that part of him with anyone else yet.

"Had to give it one last shot," Ruby said. With a shrug, she stood and grabbed Archie's hand. "Looks like it's just you and me, then, babe. What should we sing?"

Archie raised an eyebrow. "Hungry Like the Wolf?"

"Oooh, come over here and say that." Ruby yanked Archie closer for a kiss. "Duran Duran is so my style."

Belle shook her head and laughed while Ruby danced her way onto the stage with a blushing Archie in tow. Ruby loved to sing and her give-a-damn button had been broken for years—if it had ever worked to begin with. As it turned out, Archie and Ruby sounded really good together. Whistles, applause, and catcalls followed their performance, a few people even shouting for an encore. They melted into Olivia Newton John's "I Honestly Love You," and Belle swayed to the music, enjoying the performance until Neal and Emma showed up next to their table.

"Can we talk to you guys a sec?" Neal asked, half-shouting over the music. He pointed through the doorway toward the front of the house where the bar was. "Maybe over there?"

* * *

The barroom of the Rabbit Hole was quiet, most of the patrons inside the game room for karaoke, and the jukebox was silent. Only Al was manning the bar, while the rest of the staff made the rounds taking drink orders.

Gold set his drink down on the bar and climbed onto the stool with a sigh. His gaze flickered over Neal and then Emma. "What's this all about, you two?"

"Last movie night soon, eh, Belle?" Neal leaned against the bar with his hip cocked, sipping his beer with far too much finesse for a twenty-two-year-old. "Felt like it was getting colder on the walk here."

The front door opened with a squeak, admitting an unusually cool wave of late August air along with a group of laughing young women. Belle wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, and Gold took off his suit jacket and draped it over her bare shoulders. She snuggled into it and gave him a grateful smile. "I feel the change in the air, too," she said. "Autumn is upon us."

Gold glowered and flexed his hands on the top of his cane, his son's smooth small talk grating on his nerves. Neal never sought him out in public unless something was wrong and the way he'd ignored his pointed question didn't bode well for what was coming.

"What do you think you'll do for the movie?" Neal asked.

Gold drummed his fingers on the bar and drained the last of his Scotch, then signaled for another. Emma's face was pinched, and his son was stalling. He drummed his fingers on the bar again, willing Neal to get to the point.

Belle shrugged and linked her arm through his, soothing him with her touch. "Haven't quite decided. Something romantic with a happy ending."

"Great, great." Neal glanced at Emma, who was staring into her beer and hadn't so much as touched the glass to her lips. Gold narrowed his eyes. Something was bothering his son's girlfriend, and he was getting an inkling of what this visit was really about.

"So you're in a good mood, huh, Pop? Happy?" Neal took another slow drag of his beer.

"Shouldn't I be?" he snapped, nearing the end of his patience.

"Of course. Yeah." Neal wiped his mouth. "It would help if you would keep those happy feelings in mind is all 'cause I have a confession."

Emma's head snapped up. " _We_ have a confession."

"Em, I got this." Neal raked a hand through his hair and expelled a loud breath. "Look, Pop, I know you think I'm reckless and selfish. All I do is eat all your food and play video games and forget to take the dog out. You think I only see what's happening in my life…" Neal chuckled, then the wide smile on his face faded. "Feel free to stop me anytime."

Gold waved a hand. "I will."

"Papa," he whined.

"I know what you're trying to say, son, and it's fine. Emma's pregnant." He nodded, shocked at how well he was taking the news. He wasn't freaking out at all. "It's okay. Whatever you two need. Emma, dear, you're family. You can move in with Neal and me and anything you need in the way of support, money, help with childcare, consider it done. I should be furious with my son for being so irresponsible, but sometimes the unexpected happens."

"Crap! But…no...that's not…" Emma stuttered, her eyes wide.

"Yes, you have choices," Gold continued quickly. Not that he wanted to think about those. Belle squeezed his hand and he took a shuddering breath, thankful for her support. "Alternatives. I hope you'll consider all the options and think beyond the immediate future. This is my grandchild, and I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to be there for all of you."

"Papa! Stop! Geez, Emma isn't pregnant!" Neal looked horrified, his face beet red.

"What? No?" He should have been relieved, but instead, he felt a strange sense of emptiness, a loss for what had never been.

"You're being really sweet and making what we need to tell you even harder," Emma interjected.

Belle squeezed his hand again and bit her lip.

"When you hijack a date night and take this bloody long to get to the point, we parents tend to jump to conclusions," he said, grinding his back teeth.

Neal winced. "It's something we did to you and Belle. We thought we were making it up to you for crashing your Chinese food date. Emma told me later after we ate all the lo mein and crowded you on the couch she thought you guys wanted to be alone, ya know, for whatever it is old people do on a date. So I did what any good son would do, at least that's what I thought at the time. But I realize now it was a shitty, shitty position to put you guys in and…"

"Neal!" Gold gritted his teeth again. "Out with it, already."

"The hotel," Belle said, recognition flashing in her eyes. "In New York."

"Yeah." Twin spots of red bloomed on Emma's cheeks. "I pretended to be you, Belle. I called the hotel and canceled your room and said I was Mrs. Gold. We told the registration desk you had discovered your husband was going to be in the city on business as well and you'd decided to just stay together. They never asked me a single question. I'm so, so sorry."

"We both are," Neal added. "Seriously so sorry."

"All we wanted was for you guys to be happy," Emma said, her voice cracking.

"It's okay." Always quick to forgive, Belle wrapped comforting arms around him while she soothed Emma and Neal with her words. "We aren't angry with you. Are we, Branan?"

Gold was silent, considering. They'd decided to chalk the entire incident up to a happy coincidence, but his son and Emma had proved there was no such thing. By all rights, he should be furious, but looking into their earnest faces, he found there was no room for anger or embarrassment. Maybe he should even be thanking them: if Emma and Neal hadn't given them the push they needed, he and Belle might have danced around each other for months, never admitting their feelings. Always waiting for the other person to act first.

"Pop?" His son was studying him, waiting for the explosion. "Please say something. Anything."

"You know, some people believe there are no coincidences," Gold said quietly. "Everything that happens, happens by design. Forces greater than us conspire to make it happen. Fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it."

The worry lines in Neal's forehead smoothed. "And are you one of those people, Papa?"

"It seems I am," he said, smiling at Emma and Neal. "Belle's right, all is forgiven. Next time you help us along, though, be honest with us. No more harebrained schemes like this."

"Sounds like a deal," Neal said, a relieved grin on his face. "How about a toast?"

"Let's drink to fate," Belle offered, raising her martini glass with an impish smile. "And her little helpers."

"To fate," they echoed as they clinked their glasses.

From the other room, the smattering of applause came as someone else finished a karaoke song, and a wicked idea formed in Gold's brain. "There's only one thing you need to do to make it up to us," he told Emma and Neal. "I think a karaoke duet is a fitting punishment."

Neal groaned. "In there? Tonight? Papa, you know I don't sing."

"Me either," Emma squeaked.

"I think you'll manage one number," Gold said drily. "Don't you agree, Belle?"

"Yes." Belle leaned forward, rubbing her hands together. "Also, we get to pick the song. And it just so happens we have front row seats."

###

An interesting double date, right? The end is next!


	12. Chapter 12

Summary: Gold and Belle both want to take their relationship to the next level, but are afraid to say so. And then there's a happy ending for all.

A/N: Guys, I finished a thing! This fic began as a one-shot and grew into this 12-chapter story. Thanks to all of you for the comments and prompts. You kept me writing and I'm grateful.

A/N 2: Before anyone gets confused or thinks I've lost my mind, reminder that Gold's puppy in the story is a chocolate pug named Rumple, so named for his "rumpled" little face.

Belle's yawn turned into a groan when Rumple tugged on his leash and whined for her to pick up the pace.

She and Gold were taking the puppy on his daily early morning walk around Gold's neighborhood, a routine they had started after coming home from New York. Little Rumple's strides were short but enthusiastic, and as Belle walk-skipped down the quiet street to keep up with his stubby little legs, she wondered who was walking whom.

While the sun climbed above the trees, Gold strolled beside her in an unhurried, loose-hipped gait and Belle admired his easy grace. Even balancing a cane to support his bad knee, he had no trouble keeping up with Rumple.

He must have noticed her struggle because he eased the leash out of her hand and slowed Rumple to a sedate trot with a quiet whistle. Belle smiled at how deftly her love handled the puppy. This dog had no doubts about who kept his bowl full of kibble.

"So karaoke night was fun," Belle said. A breeze rustled the trees and she huddled deeper into her borrowed sweatshirt then tucked her arm into Gold's with a shiver.

"It was," Gold agreed, pressing a hand against her back to guide her across the street on their usual route toward the dog park. "Because we weren't the ones with beer-soaked microphones in our faces."

"Oh hush," she teased, giving him a light smack on the arm with her free hand. "You have a wonderful voice. Ruby and Archie sound like they could audition for one of those vocal talent shows, and even Emma and Neal held their own. Me? When I sing, I sound like I'm shrieking from the inside of a tin can."

"Sweetheart, don't sell yourself short," he said with a heated glance. "You know how partial I am to the sound of your shrieking."

The warmth in his eyes made her blush. She had screamed for him not an hour ago when she'd awoken with his mouth on her breasts and his hands caressing the insides of her thighs.

She was in the best relationship of her life and happier than anyone had a right to be, but something was bothering her. A longing had crawled beneath her skin, one she couldn't seem to shake off. Since last night's conversation at the Rabbit Hole with Emma and Neal, all she could think about was having Gold's baby.

After seeing the crestfallen look on his face when he found out he wasn't going to be a grandfather after all, the flash of an idea had bloomed into a full-blown fantasy. Suddenly, she couldn't contain the wild image of the two of them pushing a stroller carrying their own baby while Rumple trotted proudly at their side. In her mind's eye she saw a baby boy, one with his father's beautiful dark eyes and thick brown hair. Although she knew she would love a daughter just as much.

Belle had always imagined children somewhere in her future, as long as the right partner came into her life. Will certainly hadn't been the one, and neither had any of the other guys she dated through the years. Gold was different.

Besides the fact that she was crazy in love with him, there had been this softness, a reverence in his voice when he spoke last night about the possibility of a child. It was the same soft-spoken tenderness she'd heard when he asked her about birth control in the taxi.

In the time they'd spent together, she'd seen that Gold was an excellent father. Despite Neal's decisions to drop out of college, sleep till noon every day, and play video games, Gold exhibited a quiet patience with his son, never pushing him to make decisions before he was ready. Neal's choice to stay in his father's home spoke volumes, and last night proved they could make the best of their differences. And even though Gold had sworn Neal's wanderlust meant he would never settle in Storybrooke, Gold had remarked more than once about how much his son loved Emma.

She suspected no one but she and Neal knew how soft Gold's heart truly was.

Belle worried her lower lip, trying not to look too far around the bend at what the future might hold. She'd wanted a relationship with Gold for months, but maybe his feelings weren't moving along at the same brisk pace. Three weeks of commitment wasn't long, and there was no harm in enjoying the day-to-day. Besides, Gold had made her no promises and she wasn't going to start making demands.

But might Gold want a child with her someday? It was definitely an idea worth exploring in time.

"Rumple seems content." Belle smiled at the jaunty wag of the puppy's tail and set aside her wistful thoughts. "You've obviously been taking good care of him since you made the adoption official."

Gold slackened the leash while the puppy rounded a tree, sniffed the base of the trunk with an enthusiastic bark, and lifted his leg.

"You've done more than your share to care for him and he's at least as fond of you as he is me." He shook his head at the little brown pup. "Rascal keeps trying to take my spot in bed. I went to the bathroom during the night and when I got back he was on my pillow. Have you been hiding pepperoni snacks in your pajamas to lure him in?"

Rumple turned around and whimpered at the mention of his favorite treat. "No," Gold admonished the pup. "You get your treat later."

Belle laughed at the mutinous expression on Rumple's tiny face then turned to Gold with a pretend pout. "I don't wear pajamas when I sleep in your bed. I barely sleep at all when I'm in your bed. You've been keeping me awake and it's caused me a few embarrassing moments at work."

"Tell me more." Gold grinned, his gold tooth flashing in the morning sunlight.

"You're incorrigible." Belle shook her head. "Yesterday morning, I spilled my coffee all over a new boxed set of the _Anne of Green Gables_ series. And after lunch I insisted to Mayor Mills that the heroine of _Pride and Prejudice_ is Emma Woodhouse. She was not impressed."

"Still an Austen character," he pointed out graciously.

"I'm a librarian," she complained. "I can't afford those types of careless errors."

She smoothed her free hand over yesterday's skirt and sighed. Her clipped words were making it sound like she wasn't happy with their arrangement, which wasn't true at all. She was confused. Confused and caffeine-starved.

xoxo

"Fair point." Gold looked over her wrinkled clothing and frowned. It made no difference to him if Belle wore the same clothes home that she'd arrived in and he loved seeing her in his sweatshirt, but her lack of permanence in his home made him feel restless and agitated. Last week, she'd brought a toothbrush to keep in his bathroom, but when she wasn't there, it was the only sign she had been in the house. The rest of her clothing and belongings were still at her apartment.

He didn't want her going back to her apartment to shower and dress. He didn't want her to leave at all, but he was still working out how to ask for more. He looked down at the sidewalk, counting the cracks in the pavement as they walked. What if she wasn't ready to take their relationship to the next level?

"Why don't you?" he asked.

"Why don't I what?"

"Bring pajamas?"

She raised her shapely eyebrows then looked down at their linked arms. "I guess I didn't want to break the spell. As long as we were taking this day-by-day and I wasn't presuming…" she trailed off.

"Nothing presumptuous about pajamas." He barked a nervous laugh and focused his attention on the swish of Rumple's little tail as they walked, suddenly afraid to meet her eyes.

"I suppose you're right," she said after a moment.

"Then maybe you should keep some things at my house?" he continued. "Clothes, shoes, books? I can empty some drawers for you. Then you can relax. Maybe even get some sleep some nights. We could have breakfast together and you could leave for work from my house

instead of making an extra stop."

He tightened his fingers around the head of his cane and chanced a sideways glance at her.

"Sounds sensible," she said.

Her brow was furrowed, the confusion on her face mimicking his own feelings. It wasn't enough. The woman walking next to him was his whole world. He didn't want to simply make space for her in his dresser; he wanted it to be _their_ dresser, _their_ closet, _their_ bed.

He had to be brave, he reasoned. Even if they weren't yet in the same place, he wouldn't spoil things by being a step or two ahead. Hope didn't come naturally to him but Belle's sweet, forgiving spirit made it easy to look to the future.

"Come here," he said, drawing her close. She snuggled against his side with a little sigh, their thighs brushing together while they walked. He took a deep breath and tried again. "What would you think about making a change to your address? Letting go of your place and bringing all your things to mine?"

He felt her mouth open against his shoulder and she pulled away.

A delighted smile spread across her face and she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and clasped her hands together. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

He grinned at her like a fool, the tension in his body melting at her obvious pleasure. "Not very articulately, but yes. Bad idea?"

"Branan Gold, this is the absolute best idea you've had since you decided to walk around your hotel room in a towel!"

"Is that a yes?" he asked, grinning like an even bigger fool.

"Yes!" She hopped up and down in the middle of Maple Street and grabbed his hands. "Yes, I would love to move in with you. When?"

The excitement in her tone sent a thrill up his spine. He'd been so nervous about getting ahead of himself, but his burst of bravery had paid off. Belle was ready to take this next step too, and there was no reason to pretend or to wait.

He took another deep breath, claiming his courage once more. "How about we go get some of your belongings today? I love you, Belle. I want to be with you always."

A tear trickled down her cheek and she threw her arms around his neck with a small sob, then pulled back to stroke her fingers through his hair. "I want it, too. I've known since New York.

Well, way before New York. But I didn't want to presume."

"There's that word again." He laughed and kissed her nose. "Oh, my love. If you hadn't 'presumed' by running after me during the movie night at the beginning of the summer, none of this would ever have happened. I'd still be standing in the middle of the street behind the rows of chairs, watching the most beautiful librarian in the world from behind a tree."

"And I'd still be leaving the seat next to me empty, waiting for my dashing leading man to join me for a movie," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"That wouldn't make for a very happy ending," he murmured against her mouth.

"I'm far more partial to happy beginnings," she said, parting her lips for his kiss.

xoxo

 **Nine Months Later**

Nursing a lukewarm cup of strawberry lemonade, Belle scanned the crowded library courtyard and the parking lot beyond on tiptoe.

"Relax, sweetheart," Gold murmured, coming up behind her to wrap his arms around her thickening waistline. "Archie drives like a demon. They'll be here on time."

"You're right," Belle said, leaning back against his chest with a deep breath. At seven months pregnant, she could blame at least part of her jitters on hormones. "You'd think a mild-mannered, soft-spoken shrink would be a sedate driver, but he has a lead foot for sure."

Gold splayed his hands over her baby bump and their little one delivered a swift, hard kick to her ribcage. "Our boy is strong," he said, pride lacing his words.

"And hungry," Belle replied, watching carts filled with cotton candy, popcorn, and roasted pecans roll by. "Can I get some popcorn now?"

"Of course, love. I'll be right back."

She beamed at him as he picked his way through the crowd to the popcorn cart. He'd been amazing throughout her pregnancy, from the day she'd wrung her hands waiting for multiple test results to last night when she'd sent him to the store at midnight because they'd run out of Cocoa Pebbles cereal.

May had arrived in Storybrooke, heralded by warm breezes off the sea and the bright, citrusy scent of magnolia blossoms. And tonight, the familiar spring scents blended with the buttery aroma of fresh popcorn, tickling her nostrils. In a few short minutes, Belle would introduce the last summer of movies in the library courtyard, and she was equal parts excitement and nostalgia: Gold had donated a huge tract of land to the library and next week, Storybrooke would break ground on its very own drive-in movie theatre. By next spring, they would be watching double features from their cars and lawn chairs.

Ending the event's run was bittersweet for many reasons—not the least of which was that she'd created the movie nights partly as a way to draw out Gold. But as she watched the extra rows of chairs fill up, she had to admit the town had outgrown projecting films onto the side of the library wall. No one was happier than she was about the success of her little courtyard movie project, though, and Storybrooke getting an outdoor big screen was something to cheer about.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!"

Ruby sprinted across the courtyard in her lucky stiletto-heeled red leather boots, and Belle set her cup of lemonade on a bench. "You're not late, sweetie!" She opened her arms with a squeal. "How did it go?"

"I did it, Belles!" Ruby embraced her as she panted, out of breath from her run. "I passed my last final! Top of the class!"

"I knew all your studying and hard work would pay off." Last September, Ruby had enrolled in a cosmetology school in Augusta. The town was a forty-five-minute drive from Storybrooke and her last exam of the term had been this morning.

"Congratulations." Gold handed Belle a bucket of popcorn and a fresh drink, then turned to Ruby with a smirk. "Was running the 100-yard dash across a field in ridiculous footwear part of the examination?"

"Suck it, Gold." Laughing, Ruby stuck out her tongue. "I'm brilliant. And cool."

"As if you'd let me forget," he teased.

Archie arrived, his eyes bright with happiness, and wrapped his arms around Ruby. "She talked a mile a minute the entire way here. Couldn't even wait for me to park the car. She opened the door and jumped out while we were still moving!"

Ruby elbowed Archie in the ribs. "I was excited!"

"Ya think?"

"It's all thanks to you guys that I applied to beauty school in the first place," Ruby said. "I'm not ashamed to work at the diner or anything, but I always felt I was meant for something different, you know?"

"You're incredibly talented, Rubes." Belle beamed, beyond happy Ruby had found her calling and was learning to do work she loved.

Gold and Archie stepped a few feet away, launching into their own conversation.

"Belles, you look amazing tonight." Ruby gave her airy, tie-front yellow jumpsuit an approving nod. "I don't know if it's the pregnancy, the news of the drive-in, or the conditioner I started using on your hair, but you're glowing, girl!"

"Finally it's my turn!" Belle said with a laugh. "I had to get pregnant to steal a compliment from Gold."

"Well, he is my favorite," Ruby said with a wink. "Think he'll let me highlight his hair for the summer?"

Belle squinted at Gold, trying to imagine his brown, shoulder-length mane shot through with blonde streaks. "You never know."

xoxo

"Do you have it?" Gold asked Archie, watching Belle and Ruby link arms and walk toward the concession stand in search of hot dogs.

"In my pocket." Archie patted the side of his trousers. "You?"

"Aye."

Holding Belle's abandoned popcorn, Gold led the way to the picnic tables and Archie followed, grabbing a handful of napkins for dinner. "Think they suspect?"

"It's hard to say, but I don't think so," he said, choosing a table. He sat down and took a handful of popcorn, then tilted the box toward Archie. "Belle's rather distracted by the pregnancy."

"And Ruby's exams have taken over." Archie sat down beside him and did a double take. "Are you eating popcorn?"

Gold chewed another fluffy kernel. Thanks to Belle and hours of talking with Archie, the events surrounding his separation from Milah all those years ago were a distant memory. He no longer hated movies or popcorn. "This stuff isn't half bad when it's fresh. Besides, my psychiatrist said replacing bad memories with positive ones would help with my personal growth."

So much had changed in the past year. His relationship with Neal grew stronger by the day and Emma spent so much time at the house that he and Belle thought of her as a daughter. Bored with sitting at home playing video games, Neal had decided to put his charm and charisma to good use and was working on getting his real estate license. He and Emma were making plans to move in together, and Gold hoped they would marry soon. Emma's strength and independence were good for his boy.

And he was going to be a father again. The week after Belle moved in, Ashley Boyd knocked on the door to plead with Belle to babysit her six-month-old daughter, Alexandra. Between misinterpreting Emma and Neal's news on karaoke night and watching the love of his life coo and rock a gorgeous, gurgling little pink bundle, he was a goner. After Ashley collected the baby, he asked Belle to forget everything he'd said in New York about not being ready for children. To his delight, she agreed without hesitation. Two months and six positive pregnancy tests later, they were expecting their son in October.

Tonight he was taking another giant step in making them a family by asking Belle to be his wife.

As it happened, Archie had decided to ask Ruby to marry him as well. Gold had a partner for ring-shopping and a built-in best man for his wedding, and they'd both decided to pop the question tonight. He couldn't think of anyone he'd like to share this experience with more than his best friend.

"Way to turn a corner, Gold. I'm proud of you." Archie pushed his glasses up and grinned and Gold knew he was talking about far more than his new affinity for popcorn.

"Fishing tomorrow?" Archie asked.

"Sounds grand," Gold said. "Perhaps we can take the ladies out for a celebratory brunch afterward, assuming there's something to celebrate."

"And here I was going to suggest a double wedding." Archie snorted. "Pessimist."

"Old habits die hard, I suppose." Gold thwacked Archie on the back while Belle and Ruby moved in their direction, each bearing trays loaded with hot dogs and onion rings. "I'll get the drinks."

He traipsed back to the concession stand and joined the line.

"Hello, darling."

Gold gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers around the head of his cane. God help him, he would know that exaggerated English drawl anywhere.

"Carolina." He spun around, baring his teeth in a mocking grin. "Thought I smelled a whiff of desperation and gin. What the hell are you doing here?"

She threw her ever-present fur stole over her shoulder and simpered. "I love a good movie as much as the next girl. Aren't you going to kiss me hello?"

Gold took a step back. "I meant what are you doing _here?_ In my town."

"Your town is my town, Gold," she retorted with a sly smile.

"Excuse me?" Baffled, he stared at her. She couldn't mean? Could she?

She stared at her nails. "Not like it's any of your business, darling, but I'm moving here to Bookville."

"It's Storybrooke."

She waved her manicured hand. "Details, darling. Always getting in the way of what's important, don't you agree?"

"Details make the world go round, _darling_."

Carolina pursed her lips. "Well if you must know, I've met someone. A fellow animal lover called Ursula. We've decided to open up a shop selling luxury furs. Mink, raccoon, muskrat, beaver, that sort of thing."

"How enterprising," he sneered. "And what gave you the brilliant idea to give up your profitable operation in Great Neck to grace our tiny Podunk town with your illustrious presence?"

She pouted. "You're not going to be sore and hold all my silly comments in New York against me, are you, Gold? It was your Belle who convinced me I could be happy here."

He frowned, more snarky words on the tip of his tongue, but the lines bracketing his old rival's mouth were deep and harsh. She looked tired and he almost felt sorry for her. "Belle did?"

"Yes, the night we met for dinner in the city. She told me you were making friends here." Carolina's smooth smile faltered. "I figured if you could find love and friendship and be happy, there was a chance for me, too?"

"Of course there is," he agreed, unable to believe he was welcoming Carolina de Vil to Storybrooke, of all people.

She laid a hand on his arm. "Such a charming, delightful creature, your Belle. You're a lucky bastard."

"Well at least we agree on that," he said, making a mental note to keep Rumple and Pongo far, far away from Carolina and her penchant for furs.

"Congratulations on the pregnancy, by the way." She elbowed him in the stomach. "Didn't think you had it in you, Gold, but thank God you do. I've always wanted to be an aunt."

She spun away before he could reply, her sequined dress glittering in the dimming evening light.

Gold breathed a long-suffering sigh as she walked away. Considering he and Belle were only children, their son was shaping up to have more aunts and uncles than an offspring of the Walton family.

xoxo

"How about over here?" Gold asked, slipping into a chair and patting the seat beside him.

"In the back row?" Belle whispered, lowering herself into the aisle seat. "What mischief do you have in mind, Mr. Gold?"

"None at all, Miss French." He brushed her lips with his. "But if we sit back here we can talk without disturbing others."

She gave him a flirtatious frown. "Talk during the movie? Why? Are you not excited about a summer full of baby movies? After this we have _Baby Boom_ , _Boss Baby_ , and _Look Who's Talking._ "

"Really?" his eyes widened.

"No, darling." She sighed. "I'm pregnant, not crazy."

"I'm sure all the movies you've chosen are wonderful, sweetheart," he soothed. "But I'll be much too busy admiring you to notice anything on the screen."

"Flatterer," she huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "You're just making excuses not to pay attention."

"Perhaps this'll help?" He shook a box of Raisinettes in her face.

"Oh, thank God. I'm ravenous." She seized the bright yellow box with a groan. She'd already polished off a Chicago-style hot dog, onion rings, a large soda, and a bucket of popcorn. "I swear this baby wants to eat every fifteen minutes."

The movie began, and Belle heard a happy squeal from the bushes behind her. She turned around to see Ruby bouncing up and down, her hands covering her cheeks before she threw her arms around Archie and cried, "Yes!"

"What are they doing?" she asked, starting to stand up and go see what all the commotion was about. The way Archie had jumped up from his knees was suspicious. "That looked an awful lot like a marriage proposal. Are they? Did Archie?"

"Never mind them!" Gold yanked on her arm and dragged her back into her chair. "There's that Tom Selleck fellow you love, Belle. I need to you to talk me through the film; you know I won't follow along without your help." He stared up at the screen, unusually interested in the movie. "What are we watching again?"

"But Ruby-"

"Sweetheart." He was still holding onto her arm, his grip light but desperate. "Please?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You're trying to distract me, but I'll answer you anyway," she whispered. " _Three Men and a Baby._ It's an eighties classic."

He gave her a tender smile. "I noticed Leroy talking to you during dinner. He still tossing out baby names at you? What was it this time? Adelbert? Cristobal?"

Belle frowned, trying to remember. "No, this one started with an 'R.' Rodrigo, Rufio...something like that. But I bribed him to stop with the uncle thing."

"Leroy, too?" Gold shook his head. "Neal, Emma, Ruby, Archie, Astrid, Carolina, Leroy. The number of aunts and uncles this child has is only surpassed by the number of people claiming responsibility for the success of our relationship."

She hummed. "A child can never have too much love. Besides, everyone knows you are one thousand percent responsible for the success of our relationship."

"Lies." He drew her head onto his shoulder and caressed her baby bump. "So what would you think about becoming Mrs. Gold again?"

"Like in New York?" She fished into the box for another Raisinette and popped it into her mouth, chewing furiously to cover her racing heart. His tone was casual. Too casual. Was this it? He'd bandied the word marriage about for months, but he hadn't come out and asked. She held her breath, waiting.

He shrugged. "Like New York, yes, but I had something a bit more permanent in mind."

"Permanent?" she squeaked, tightening her hands around the box of candy.

Oh, but his nonchalance was making her crazy!

"Isn't this how the best movies go?" he asked. "The happy ending features some sort of callback to previous events."

"Happy beginning," she said automatically. She lifted her head from his shoulder, a smile spreading across her face. This _was_ it and it was perfect. She blinked rapidly fighting back the happy tears. Oh, how she loved him.

"Happy beginning, I stand corrected." His lopsided grin made her stomach flip over. "If being Mrs. Gold doesn't suit, I could make a change to my name. I'm not fussy."

"Would you like to be Mr. French?" she teased, playing along.

"I could be persuaded," he said against her ear. The warm, husky timbre of his voice sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

"Belle Gold has a lovely ring to it, though," she said. "We could both have the initials BG."

"Ideal for the monogrammed His and Hers towel set I already have on order."

She giggled and he extended his index finger. The light from the movie screen illuminated his hand, and on it dangled a stunning diamond solitaire ring. The band was fashioned of rose gold and delicate rosebuds were etched into the metal all the way around. It was the perfect blend of modern and vintage, and exactly what she would have chosen for herself.

"Are you asking me to marry you?" she asked, her breath catching in her throat. Saying it out loud somehow made it more real.

"Not very articulately, but yes. Bad idea?"

"Oh, Branan." Overwhelmed, she took the ring off his finger with shaking hands and somehow found her ring finger. The ring slid into place, its cool weight feeling as much like home as the man sitting next to her. "Best idea yet."

"Better than wearing the towel?"

She grinned at him through her tears. "Let's call it a tie."

 _ **THE END**_


End file.
